


Fault in Our Stars

by FromTheBoundlessSea



Series: The Celiaverse [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ashara Dayne is a Good Friend, Canon Divergence - Robert's Rebellion, Elia Martell is a Good Friend, F/M, Forbidden Love, Jealous Arthur, Jonsa Vibes, Kingsguard, Mutual Pining, Not Rhaegar friendly, POV Arthur, Protective Arthur, Rhaegar Targaryen Being an Asshole, this fic is harder to tag than I thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 41,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22544698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromTheBoundlessSea/pseuds/FromTheBoundlessSea
Summary: It was like a dance, where they were in the same grouping but not true partners. They orbited each other in a close circle. A knuckle running along the curve of her skirt. A fan running against his thigh. One hand brushing against another. They would come together only for their breath to mingle and then diverge as the dance took them in opposite directions.But in those seconds where they faced one another. It was an eclipse. The world was their own, both hidden for a moment in time that was theirs. Just theirs.
Relationships: Arthur Dayne/Original Female Character(s), Brandon Stark/Catelyn Tully Stark, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Series: The Celiaverse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547251
Comments: 368
Kudos: 562





	1. Celia I

She had done her very best to look as presentable as possible. Having three daughters was a lot for many lords, especially with a wife who was pregnant with a fourth child and the maester expecting it to be another girl. Celia wasn’t surprised that her father needed to send one of his girls out of the keep. He did it out of love, afterall. 

At fifteen, Celia was the second oldest daughter of Hoster Tully, second only to her twin sister Catelyn, their father’s heir. Cat was engaged to marry the heir of the Warden of the North, Brandon Stark. Such a match was made when their father still had hopes in a son, but those hopes had diminished by the year and their father was loathed to break the betrothal to such a noble and ancient house as the Starks. So, Celia was to follow suit as her father’s heir until Catelyn produced a second son who would eventually inherit the Tully seat of Riverrun. While stepping up to such a role, Celia’s father had decided that it would be best for Celia to make the same connections her mother had. 

Her mother had been a court lady under Queen Rhaella when she was still a princess and had only left the court when she married Celia’s father. However, instead of replacing her mother to serve under the current queen, Celia was to serve under Princess Elia, the future queen of Westeros, who had only recently given birth to a daughter, the Princess Rhaenys. 

Celia smoothed out the skirt of her dress, a beautiful blue that matched her house colors with red embroidery upon the hem of the skirt and sleeves that was closer to Targaryen red than Tully. It was her best court dress, although nowhere near the current Dornish fashion that had taken over the women of court as they attempted to vie for the attention and friendship of the future queen and the princess of a powerful house. 

Celia wondered, briefly, if her father hoped for her to marry a Dornishman or someone from the Crownlands. Lysa was yet at an age to truly think of someone and the Petyr incident left their father floundering about when it came to matches for her. Celia, however, had been trained in all the ways of court, hanging from her mother’s every word and lesson.

Now, Celia would see how she would fare. 

She curtsied to the king and queen as her father bowed. They rose when the king bade them to and Celia allowed herself to examine the Targaryen king. He had seemed kind in the beginning of his reign, but he had grown much harsher in recent years. Perhaps it was due to coming from yet another Blackfyre rebellion, although it had been since called the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Her uncle had distinguished himself during that war and Celia knew it left plenty of people wary. 

“Come here, my dear,” the queen said gently. Celia did as she was told and went towards the queen, bowing her head respectfully until she stood before the queen’s smaller throne. “You have much of your mother in you.”

“Thank you, your grace,” Celia said with another curtsy. “My sister takes more after my mother than I.”

“Perhaps, but your manners remind me of Minisa fondly.” Celia smiled. “Your smile does as well. Please, take your place next to the princess.”

Celia did as she was told and went to the Dornish beauty who sat next to her standing husband. She bowed to the older girl. “I shall do my best to serve you and the little princess, your grace.”

Elia smiled. It was such a tender thing, everything about her seemed tender and Celia felt as though the woman needed friendship and protection. Celia, in truth, wanted very little in life, save a husband who would love her and children she could dote on. She expected nothing from the princess, but she would gladly accept any expectation placed on her. 

“Thank you for your future service, my lady,” the princess said, and Celia stood behind her chair with the other court ladies under Princess Elia’s care.

—

Celia followed Lady Ashara, who insisted Celia dropped the formalities before she even finished saying the Dornishwoman’s name. The Red Keep was the largest place Celia had ever been in and she had no doubt she would be most rather easily a few times in the coming months if she were asked to go somewhere alone. 

“How have you not gotten lost?” Celia asked. “You have only been here for about a year or so.”

“My brother is very descriptive in his letters,” she shrugged. “I felt like I already knew the keep by the time I came here.”

“Your brother, Ser Arthur Dayne?”

“Sword of the Morning himself.” Ashara looked at her. “If you ever need anything, feel free to ask him. My brother is perhaps one of the kindest of the kingsguard. Stay away from Ser Barristan Selmy, he creeps me out.” Celia nodded, she had felt similar about the older knight, and a chill had run up her spine when she saw how he looked at Ashara. “Also, Jaime Lannister, my brother’s squire is a good person to talk to. He’s closer to your age too, although younger.”

“My father hoped to betroth him to myself or my sister Lysa, but he was more interested in talking to my Uncle Brandon about swords and things.”

Ashara laughed. It made Celia blush a bit. “He _would._ Now, there are a few places in the Keep you are _not_ to go near, even if someone asks you to.”

“And that is?”

“Do not go _anywhere_ near the king’s rooms or private chambers.” Ashara looked at her with some worry. “You’re a pretty girl with many options ahead of you, but you don’t want to get caught up in all that.”

Celia tilted her head in confusion, but Ashara didn’t continue her explanation. 

“Next, the rooms for the Kingsguard. Those are their private rooms and they have enough to worry about other than a girl disrupting what little sleep they have.”

Celia nodded. “That all sounds reasonable.”

Ashara room Celia’s hands in hers. “Don’t be afraid to ask me anything, or even Elia.”

She blinked. “I couldn’t possibly bother the princess with anything trivial.”

“She would welcome it. Our princess enjoys knowledge. I’m sure she would enjoy hearing of the Riverlands. None of us have ever been there.”

Celia nodded and continued to follow Ashara through the keep, their arms linked together as Celia and Cat used to. 

—

“So, tell me,” Princess Elia, who also insisted that Celia call her by her name only when they were in private, said from her seat. “Have you left a string of broken hearts behind you in the Riverlands?”

Celia snorted before covering her nose with embarrassment. “Nothing like that. Most boys looked to my sisters Cat or Lysa. They’re far prettier than I am.”

Both were long and willowy, while Celia had a perpetual baby face. She looked rather childish, and people often thought Lysa was older than her and that Celia was the younger sister. 

“Well, it is their own loss then.” The princess smiled. “I shall find a match for you when you are ready. I must also find a dressmaker to see new dresses for you to better match my other girls.”

“I fear people may confuse me for a boy then, your grace,” she said, thinking of her small chest. _What breasts?_ Lysa’s voice taunted in her head. 

“Nonsense. I was rather small too before I had Rhaenys.” She looked down at her daughter, who was suckling happily away. “There are some tricks a Dornish dressmaker knows to draw better attention to what the gods have blessed you with.”

Celia smiled. “I shall look forward to it. I’ve only ever worn Riverland fashion and the material is always so heavy to keep the slight chill from our bones when it comes to the cold air off the water. I can’t imagine how the Northmen fare it.”

“I don’t think anyone really knows how the Northmen fare it,” the princess giggled. “Dornish fabrics are much lighter and considering the heat of King’s Landing, I would rather you not faint from it.”

“I believe we are in agreement on that.”

—

Celia was growing used to the people of King’s Landing and the Red Keep. It was much different from Riverrun, but some things were the same. However, what Celia could not quite handle was the use of masks when around other people. She had heard women bemoaning the horrible nature of a lord or a lord’s son, and then flutter their eyelashes at the same man and blush when he gave her compliments. 

She simply could not understand it and wondered if her honest opinion of some of the people around her, if critical, would be welcome at all. 

She had at least been able to make friends with Elia and Ashara, the older girls taking to her rather well and welcoming her into their fold, but being outsiders in their Dornish heritage and Celia in her status as the only lady from the Riverlands. She enjoyed their friendship and their trust. 

Celia had also been able to become friends with Jamie Lannister to some degree. He had danced with her once during one of the small feasts the king held. He had been kind and courteous, if not a bit distant, but when she admitted to feeling no attraction to him, he had eased and even smiled at her that had a gleam of mischief in his eyes. 

She was so lost in her thought, however, that she did not pay attention as she turned a corner and walked face first into the chest of someone, her forehead hitting against the man’s chin. 

“Are you alright, my lady?” Celia looked up and found Ser Arthur Dayne standing before her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will update with PIS every Monday and Friday.  
> Remember to check out my other Celiaverse fics with two more being published tomorrow!


	2. Arthur I

It wasn’t a rare thing to have a lord present his daughter to the king and court. It had been rather frequent before Rhaegar had married Princess Elia. Lords from across the Seven Kingdoms would come to present their eligible daughters to the king, hoping to catch Rhaegar’s eye, thinking that the prince could sway his father’s opinion. 

Arthur had no idea if this were true or not. Regardless, Rhaegar had married Princess Elia, one of the few noble women with Valyrian blood running through their veins. Arthur could remember the king sending emissaries to Lya and across the sea to see if he could find a woman of noble birth with Valyrian features, but found none. 

Arthur returned to his present thoughts. 

This presentation of a lady was not to catch the eye of a prince, her gown did not show off her assets and her hair was in the style of the Riverlands rather than the style most women in King’s Landing wore. Her dress was also not of Dornish fabric either, even if it wasn’t in the style, Arthur would have thought she’d at least use Dornish fabrics. But he supposed that was beside the point. 

The girl was pretty. Very few women in court had red hair, and her hair was the color of the Dornish mountains and the stones that made up Sunspear with undertones of copper. She was young, but not much younger than Arthur himself. There was a sort of innocence in her gaze that few women kept in their time in King’s Landing. Her blue eyes seemed to be taking everything in, glowing under the queen’s gaze and blushing at the princess, barely giving a loo to Rhaegar at all.

Arthur smiled, she was much better in those few seconds than any of the other women who attempted to get into the royal family’s good graces. Many lords hoped for a Blackfyre to come from Rhaegar, hoping to earn some favor from him, but Arthur doubted that Rhaegar would do such a thing. In truth, Rhaegar had barely any interest in Elia at all anyway. Arthur did not think he had preferences like Jon Connington, but he felt the prince was simply uninterested in a relationship in general. He seemed to prefer his harp and songs to most women to be honest. 

The new girl, Lady Celia Tully, took her place behind Princess Elia and they continued on with the day’s court proceedings. 

—

“Are you alright, my lady?” 

It was his first time seeing Lady Celia so close. His sister had spoken of her, chatted about her in truth. His sister enjoyed taking the girl under her wing and was under the impression the princess did as well. 

She was… much prettier up close than she had been when he was glancing at her from afar. Her hair was in a Dornish fashion, curled with a few braids keeping her hair from her face. Her dress was not as heavy as it had been and Arthur recalled Ashara saying that the Tully girl cut a smart figure in Dornish styles. Her arms were bare and the corset was tight against her waist and chest, with no attempt made the hide her curved figure and the swell of her small breasts. She looked… unique. Even though she was dressed in the style that most women wore to court, it was obvious that Princess Elia and Ashara had a hand in picking the colors and design. She looked just as out of place, in a way that the princess and Ashara did, although that was because they were the only Dornish women in court while Lady Celia, to Arthur’s knowledge, was the only one with hair the color of clayed earth. 

“I’m fine, Ser,” she said, rubbing her forehead slightly. He could see a reddened Mark there where his chin had hit her. 

Without much thought, Arthur rubbed his thumb across her brow and she froze. Then, he remembered that this wasn’t Ashara and it would be deemed rather inappropriate to be touching a girl he hardly knew in a rather intimate way and retracted his hand from her person. 

“Apologies, my lady.”

“It’s alright,” she said slowly. “I was just surprised.”

“I’m Ser Arthur Dayne,” he gave her a short bow. “At your service.”

She curtsied. “Lady Celia Tully.”

He wanted to say he knew who she was, but stopped himself. “Are you in need of assistance, my lady?”

She looked at him, her sky blue eyes were bright and Arthur had no doubt plenty of men would one day drown in them. “I am alright, Ser. I am merely walking about. The princess is resting and the little princess is taking a nap.”

“Ah.”

They stood there for a moment. 

“I shall let you go back to your duties,” she said with another curtsy. 

“Oh, right. Of course.” He bowed to her again and moved out of her way so she could pass him. 

When she did, instead of going on his way, he watched her go, her skirts fluttering behind her like butterfly wings. 

—

“I don’t like Connington,” Arthur said as Rhaegar read through an old book in the library. 

The prince had the Valyrian look, silvery hair and lavender eyes. His face had grown a little gaunt in the past weeks, preferring to spend his time in the library as opposed to his wife’s bedside. 

Princess Elia was getting stronger, but the birth of Rhaenys had been hard on her body. It was part of the reason the queen had insisted that someone come to look after Elia. Ashara did what she could, but the queen had wanted someone else they could trust and the daughter of her friend, Lady Minisa Tully, was the perfect girl for the job. 

“And what has Connington done to make you dislike him?” Rhaegar said, still looking at the book as he flipped the page. “He’s a good man, loyal, regardless of what my father seems to believe.”

“I just don’t like how he looks at the princess.”

Rhaegar paused then to actually look at Arthur. “I know it isn’t said or widely known, but Jon doesn’t have those kind of feelings for the fairer sex.”

“Those are not the looks I’m referring to.”

“Then what looks  _ are  _ you referring to.”

“Contempt. Dislike. Just to and a few.” The red haired man had hair like blood and infested wounds. His eyes were like storm clouds upon a normally clear sky. The Lord of Griffin’s Roost didn’t make his dislike for the princess obvious, but most everyone knew of it anyway. 

“I have not seen such looks,” Rhaegar said. 

“He thinks the princess is unworthy of you.”

“My father thinks much the same, but you have not said anything.”

“Because you are not wholly blind to your father’s faults.”

Rhaegar arched a brow. “But I am partially blind?”

Arthur looked to his feet, feeling foolish. No, Rhaegar was not partially blind to his father’s faults. It was no secret that Rhaegar disliked his father greatly and many wished for Rhaegar to ascend to the throne quickly, but Rhaegar did nothing for the queen, save give her her time when he could, the same thing he did for his wife and daughter. 

“Forgive me, your grace,” Arthur said. “I’ve been rude.”

Rhaegar stood from his seat and stood before Arthur, placing his hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. “There are things coming we must prevent and those things take precedent.”

“You keep saying that something is coming, but you never say what that means.”

“I’ll explain in time.” The prince went back to his books. “It is what the Targaryens came to Westeros for. I am sure of it.”

—

It was late at night and he was doing his rounds with Ser Barristan. Arthur didn’t particularly care for the other knight. He did not care for the way the older man looked at his sister or the way his eyes wandered lower than they should. The old knight seemed to think there was nothing wrong with this and Arthur felt like he couldn’t reprimand him. It was in moments like those that Arthur felt powerless. 

“You shouldn’t be wandering the halls alone, my lady.”

Arthur looked up when Barristan spoke and saw that Lady Celia was walking the halls, still dressed in her morning clothes. She looked rather surprised to see them patrolling the halls her eyes wide in some mix of disbelief and curiosity. 

She curtsied to them. “Forgive me, sers, but I simply couldn’t sleep and then I found myself lost. The keep looks rather different at night.”

“That it does,” Barristan chuckled. 

“Shall I escort you back to your chambers, my lady?” Arthur asked. “They are next to Ashara’s are they not?”

“Yes, Ser.”

“I could escort the lady,” Barristan offered. 

“It’s quite alright, Barristan,” Arthur said. “I needed to speak with my sister before she turns in for the evening anyway.” He offered out his arm. “My lady.”

She took it graciously. “Thank you, Ser.”

Arthur unconsciously put his hand over hers as he walked her to her quarters which were near his sister’s. He didn’t actually have anything to say to Ashara, he would just rather Barristan not be anywhere near his sister’s rooms if he did not have to be.

“How are you adjusting to the Red Keep, my lady?” Arthur asked. 

“It was not as difficult as I imagined,” she said. “But it is so much larger than any place I have ever been to.”

“Is not your grandfather’s seat Harrenhal? That is a rather large keep as well.”

“True, but it is so empty at times, but here it is so full of people and life, I find it just seems bigger than anything I might have imagined.”

“Did you imagine the Red Keep often?”

“As often as any girl does I suppose,” she said. “I often dreamed of visiting, but never quite imagined living here. I supposed I would come here to be properly presented in court and then married off to some nobleman’s son or a nobleman himself. Or a knight, I suppose.”

“I suppose such aspirations are normal. Ashara never had them and neither did my other sister, so I wouldn’t know.”

She giggled and Arthur found he quite liked the sound of it. “Ashara is rather unique in all things.”

Arthur laughed as well. “She is.”

“She told me to come to you if ever I needed anything.”

“And do you need something, my lady?”

Her cheeks had turned a rosy pink. “Merely to open my door.”

He looked and saw that they had reached her chambers. “Ah.” He let go of her hand and opened the door for her. She went inside and turned to look at him as she closed the door. He bowed. “Goodnight, my lady.”

“Goodnight, Ser.”


	3. Celia II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter today because the PIS chapter got REALLY long today.

Celia laid in her bed, staring at the canopy, trying to fall asleep, but her mind continued to wander towards the Dornish knight who had escorted her back to her rooms. 

He was handsome. The handsomest man she had ever seen, although it wasn’t as though she had met many prior to coming to King’s Landing. He was exotic but, again, she had never met a Dornishman prior to coming to the capital and his accent was like the rolling waters of the rivers back home. It made her blush just to think about it. Ser Arthur was kind and courteous and so very handsome 

His dark curls were rich and as dark as earth that was moist and grew the most beautiful flowers Celia had ever seen. His eyes were almost Valyarian in appearance, but the shade of violet was softer and more inviting that the royal family’s. They were eyes of someone trustworthy. 

So very handsome and so very kind. 

Celia covered her face in embarrassment. Was it wrong to think of a kingsguard in such a way. He had sworn vows to remain chaste, although she had heard rumors that some did not keep such vows. She wondered if Ser Arthur did. Surely he would. He was so kind and sometimes, during their conversation, Celia thought his inquiries were gentle questions to see if her possible attachment to anyone. She thought perhaps he might be flirting with her. 

It was utterly ridiculous, of course. She blushed. He was a kingsguard and she was a court lady under the protection of the future queen of Westeros. Such a thing could not and would not be. The scandal of it all. 

Yet…

No. He was kind to her because she was becoming friends with his sister and they were close in age. He no doubt thought of her as a sister. The idea did not sit quite right with Celia, but she thought better that I pursue the point. 

Her relationship with Ser Arthur would be similar to that of a brother and sister, and older brother and a younger sister, a type of relationship that Celia had no idea how to form. 

She pulled the covers over her face, trying to face the image of him wishing her goodnight out of her head. 

—

“It was horrible,” Ashara giggled, her lavender eyes bright with mirth. “I promise you, never let a green boy give you his tongue. I felt as though he was feeding me a slug.” She made a face.

“Ashara,” Elia said, trying to keep her face stern, but her lips trembled in mirth. “I do believe if Celia becomes any redder she might faint.”

“I am fine,” she said trying to appear as calm as possible. Even her sisters never spoke so plainly around her since she was their sweet, innocent little sister. “I am simply not used to things being spoken of so plainly.”

The Dornish women giggled.

“I remember my first kiss,” Elia said with a sigh. Her dark eyes were distant, but held a deep warmth to them. “It was with my cousin, Manfrey. It was a chaste thing in the Water Gardens. I do believe we were hiding from my brothers in a game and we thought ourselves so clever in our spot. Oberyn pushed him in the water for it, but Manfrey said that such a kiss was worth it.”

Celia smiled at the sound of the memory. “I wish I could go to Dorne,” she said. “It sounds so very beautiful.”

“I think you are trying to change the subject,” Ashara said. “We have told you of our first kisses, now you must share your own.”

“Please, it is so embarrassing,” Celia said, her cheeks flushing.

“Your princess commands you,” Elia said brightly.

Celia sighed. “Fine. I kissed Jeffory Mallister once and it was by complete accident. I was attempting to reach for something Petyr had hidden from me as a joke and I fell. Jeffory caught me, but I fell too hard and our lips met, but my tooth cut his lip.” She covered her face in her hands. “Oh I could not look at him at all for the rest of his visit. He did write me a letter and swore that he had never received such a kiss as mine before. Oh it was so embarrassing.”

The two women looked at each other and broke out into laughter. Celia let them, blushing ever so slightly. A part of her wondered what Ser Arthur’s first kiss was, but she quickly brushed the question away. 

—

Considering how large the Red Keep was, Celia was surprised at how often she and Ser Arthur ran into each other. Meal times didn’t count, especially their fasts when they both broke it with Ashara. 

It was interesting to watch the two Dornish siblings interact. They had a strange sort of equal footing that she wasn’t aware brothers and sisters had. However, she had heard that girls could inherit if they were born first in Dorne, perhaps that was why there was some equality between them. However, she took careful note on how Ashara and her brother interacted. Ser Arthur no doubt would never think of her as a girl of interest and Celia needed to move past this infatuation so she can better appreciate the friendship the knight had to offer her. 

She and Ser Arthur ran into each other once again as Celia was running from the library to get a book for the princess. While Elia had plenty of good days, she still had quite a few that made it necessary for her to rest. It was Celia’s duty to look after her friend and entertain her as she could when the crown prince was busy, which he always seemed to be. 

“Ser Arthur,” she dipped into a curtsy. 

“My lady,” he bowed. He noted the book in her hand. “That’s quite the tomb you have there.”

“Yes,” she said. “I found a collection of Riverland stories and thought I might share them with the princess. She’s been telling me Dornish ones. She’s a wonderful storyteller, but I find my words are not so finely tuned.”

He laughed. It was such a pretty sound that Celia had to withhold a blush. “I am sure you just need the practice,” he bowed. “I shan’t keep you from your duties. My lady.”

“Ser.” She watched him leave, her chest squeezed tightly as she forced herself to focus on the white cloak and go about her day. 

—

Celia stood to the side of the great hall. The ball was in full swing and Celia tapped her foot in time with the music. It was the queen’s nameday and one of the handful of times Celia had seen the Targaryen woman since arriving. Queen Rhaella danced twice with her son before sitting next to her husband who had a near scowl upon his lips whenever Celia glanced his way. 

Now, Celia was focused upon the dancers. Elia was sitting next to the queen and had insisted that Celia go out and mingle but found she had little knowledge on how to. She hadn’t made many friends in court yet. Jaime being one of the few outside Ashara and Elia and he had danced with her once already. Both had agreed not to dance more than once every ball to not give his father any ideas of engagement. Celia honestly thought the idea of being engaged to Jaime laughable. 

She looked down at her dress. It was a mix of Dornish and Riverland fashion, the skirt fuller than a Dornish dress would be, but the fabric was lighter than anything she had worn back home. The bodice wrapped around her body and was snug against her. She had received quite a few appraising eyes, but no offers to dance. She had only danced twice. Once with Jaime and once with the crown prince at Elia’s insistence. 

Her dance with the prince had been nice, but the conversation was rather stilted. He had nothing to speak of with her and she had no idea what she could possibly talk about to the prince. She had babbled on about Rhaenys in the end and told him she needed to apologize since she was trying to get the princess’ first word to be  _ mama _ , he told her an apology wasn’t necessary and the dance ended soon after that. 

Celia sighed. She wished Cat were with her, or even Lysa. Both could dazzle the room when they wanted to, especially Cat. It’s why she had been called Cat’s shadow by some of the servants back home. 

“Would you like to dance, my lady?”

Celia looked up and found Ser Arthur smiling at her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celia’s got a crush!


	4. Arthur II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some sexual stuff (technically) happens at the end of the chapter.

“Would you like to dance, my lady?” Arthur asked, smiling and extending his hand to her.

When she looked up at him he was struck by the blueness of her eyes. He knew full well that people commented often on his and Ashara’s eye color, of the color even when they had no Valyrian ancestry, that they knew of at least. However, Lady Celia’s eyes were beautiful in their own way. The brightness of their blue made them stick out. They were like the open sea as the sun shone upon the water. A man could drown in them if they wanted to and Arthur had no doubt plenty of men did. 

Lady Celia blinked up at him before smiling at him, her pink lips parting into a sweet smile. She took his hand. “Thank you, ser, I would love to.”

Arthur led her onto the dance floor. The dance was a rather easy one and Arthur had seen her dance something similar with Jaime, although this one was more fluid than that one. Arthur placed a hand on her waist and took her hand in his other while her free hand rested against his shoulder. Then, they began to dance. 

“Have you gotten better used to the Red Keep?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she replied and then giggled. “I believe I shall be able to wander without the need of a guide now.”

He chuckled. “I suppose that is a triumph then.”

“Oh, most definitely,” she said. 

“Are you still wandering around at night?”

“When I cannot sleep, but I have learned my way to the nursery and simply go there to check on Princess Rhaenys.”

“I have no doubt the little princess enjoys the company.”

“I do hope so,” she said. “I’m afraid I’m not so quiet. I enjoy singing to her when I can.”

“Do you sing, my lady?”

“My father likes to say I was his little songbird.” She smiled brightly. “My mother was the same. She is called the Nightingale of Riverrun.”

“Perhaps one day I will have the pleasure of hearing you sing,” Arthur said as they turned.

Lady Celia blushed. “I doubt I am as good as Prince Rhaegar.”

“Rhaegar only knows sad and melancholy songs. I feel as though you would know happier ones.”

Her blush deepened. “I do.”

As they continued to dance and chat, going into a second and third song, Arthur began to catch the scent of lavender from her person and he had to resist the urge to lean in and take his fill of it.

—

“Looks like another girl has fallen for the Dayne charm,” Prince Lewyn said with a smirk. Arthur said nothing to his precious liege lord. The man of House Martell had kept the title of prince, but in the kingsguard they were all relatively equal. “I do believe she is the first redhead though.”

“She’s Ashara’s friend,” Arthur said. “She asked me to dance with her.” A bold faced lie, one he didn’t need to tell, but felt as though he had to. “She’s still newer for the keep and deserves to enjoy some of its finery.”

“She’s a pretty little thing, I’ll give you that, boy,” Ser Gerald Hightower, the Lord Commander, said with a smile. He pat Arthur on the back, the sensation jarring. 

“But not a beauty like the princess or your sister,” Ser Barristan said. 

Plenty of people commented on his sister’s beauty and, objectively, he knew that Ashara was quite pretty, but Arthur still remembered her making messes in her bed, so any aesthetic appeal was lost on him. 

“Careful,” Ser Oswell Whent warned. “That’s my grand niece you’re speaking of.”

Arthur had almost forgotten that the Whents and Tullys were connected by marriage, even though he knew full well Lady Celia’s mother had been Minisa Whent. 

“Like you care,” Ser Jonothor Darry said. “You’ve barely spoken to her since she’s arrived.”

“My duty is to the king, not my family,” Ser Oswell said. “Besides, I barely know the girl. I know her mother better, but that is all. I can’t even tell you when she was born.”

Arthur knew, but only because Ashara had told him that she wished to have some perfumes sent from Dorne for her friend’s nameday.

“We are off topic, Prince Lewyn said. “Yet another girl has fallen for the Dayne charm and I ask that you leave some courtly love for the rest of us.”

Arthur scoffed. “We all swore the same vows, Lewyn. I have no need of love and romance, just my sword and honor.”

Prince Lewyn shook his head. “You are much too young when you took your vows, you have denied yourself the world without ever once experiencing its pleasures.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and readied for bed. He had not been assigned a night shift. 

—

Considering how large the Red Keep was, it was amazing how often he found himself bumping into Lady Celia. That day, she was holding a mountain of books and Arthur was rather surprised that no one had stopped to help her. 

“Would you like help, Lady Celia?” he asked, eyes the stack of books nervously. How could she even see over them?

“I am quite fine,” she said. “There’s no need to worry.”

Ah, that was why she had no one helping her. Arthur stepped forward and took the books from her. His hands brushing against her own. “I insist. I would rather you not run into someone and hurt yourself or them.”

He noted the rosiness of her cheeks and decided to think it was due to the exertion rather than him in general, although he felt his own cheeks redden. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

“Are you taking these to the princess?” He asked. 

“Yes, I have found some Essosi tales and histories and thought she might enjoy them.”

“She would indeed,” he said as they began to walk towards the princess’ chambers. 

“Thank you for helping me with the books,” she said. 

“It’s no problem,” he replied. 

“Truly,” she continued. “Many people offered but none ignored my denial of help.” She giggled. “I never had an older brother or a boy I saw as an older brother, so I am not used to men helping me with such things.”

Arthur frowned, unsure of why her referring to him like an older brother didn’t sit right with him. 

—

She was soft beneath him. So very soft. The way her body accepted and welcomed him. The way she moved beneath him, like water, drowning him in her taste, her scent of lavender. The way her hands ran across the rippling muscles of his back as he thrust into her. The way she whispered his name into her ear with the same sort of sweetness she used when speaking of her home fondly. The heat of her that made his blood boil in a way he hadn’t felt before save for from his own hand, but this was so very different. 

Her red hair was spread beneath them and her eyes were like the sea, calling him to drown in them, drown in her. 

He said her name like a prayer as pressure began to cool in his belly until he—

“Celia…”

Arthur woke with a start, his pants a mess and sticky from his spend. He swore and got up from his bed, glad that no one was in at the moment. He went to clean himself, his mind and heart racing with thoughts of her, ashamed that his mind had used her in such a way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both developing crushes when they don’t think they should, although Arthur’s went to the gutter much sooner. Lol


	5. Celia III

Celia didn’t care for Prince Rhaegar. 

When she had first seen the prince, she had thought him handsome, most people did. He was tall and everything she had grown up believing a prince should be. Celia was certain every girl, regardless of age, had dreams and aspirations of marrying a prince, especially before Prince Rhaegar had married. However, her unattainable dream had left rather quickly once he got married and disappeared completely when she met the princess. 

Elia was perfect in every way and everything a princess should be. She was kind and generous and loving. The people in the Red Keep loved her and simply adored her. Any man would be lucky and happy to marry her. 

One man should have, but he wasn’t. 

Prince Rhaegar seemed to have very little interest in his wife or daughter. While many husbands doted on their wives and loved to shower them with affection and gifts, the prince seemed to grant his wife affection only in front of others and never really in private. The gifts he  _ sent  _ to the princess were rather impersonal and looked as though he saw something expensive and bought it for her, despite it being something she already had or something she didn’t necessarily want. 

Towards his daughter he seemed even more neglectful. True, he showed her more affection and called her  _ his little Rhaenys _ , he was still distant. Celia could, perhaps explain it away as a crown prince worried about having a male heir, but it felt wrong to Celia to think that. 

The crown prince just seemed so disinterested and prone to melancholy. He seemed to prefer sitting amongst the people playing his harp for them thanto it in council meetings that could help create policies that would better their lives. 

She also didn’t like Lord Jon Connington, who appeared to be the prince’s closest friend, either. He didn’t like the way the lord looked at the princesses. He didn’t like how the man looked at any of the women near the prince in general. 

She had never felt more small than when Celia had delivered a note to Prince Rhaegar from Elia. The lord had glared at her, as though she had disrupted him from something important, which it couldn’t have been for Prince Rhaegar could have ignored her until they had finished discussing whatever it was they had been speaking of. 

Celia did not care for the crown prince or his friend, but tried not to let it affect her work. 

—

“Elia?” 

“Yes?”

“Do you love the crown prince?”

The Dornish princess looked at Celia with a raised eyebrow. “Do you have love on the mind?”

“No,” Celia said, which was the truth. However, her mind briefly went to Arthur. “I was just wondering. My sister is betrothed to Lord Brandon Stark and I know my father will begin to try and find a match for me.” Her heart squeezed slightly in her chest. “You were an arranged marriage and I was wondering if you loved the crown prince before or if you fell in love with him along the way.”

“Hm,” Elia thought for a moment. “I suppose I thought Prince Rhaegar was rather handsome when I met him, but I have always preferred Dornish features to the more northern features everyone here has.”

“Northern features?”

“Well, everything is North when I’m Dorne, but that’s beside the point.” She thought for another moment. “I thought him handsome and I had no qualms about fulfilling my marital duties to him. But to ask if I’m in love… I don’t think so.”

“So, you don’t love him?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “You misunderstand. I do love him, I’m just not  _ in love  _ with him. I find him to be more of a friend than anything. I love him as that and as my husband and as the father to my daughter and whatever other children we may have. We may not be a loving marriage, but we are a happy one.” Celia opened her mouth to speak, but Elia continued. “Mind you we have been married for only a year and a half, so things may change. Perhaps we will learn to love one another romantically one day.” She tilted her head and studied Celia for a moment. “Are you sure you do not have love on the mind?”

Celia opened her mouth and closed it again before signing. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never really been in love before, so how do I even know that it’s love and not some sort of infatuation?”

“How do you feel when you see this person?”

“I feel… fluttery. It’s like a fish is thrashing about in my stomach.”

Elia stared at her for a long moment. “That’s a very… Riverland way of putting it.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” Elia nodded. “Most people would say it felt like butterflies in their stomach.”

“Oh.” Celia frowned. “This feels a little bit more powerful and twisting than butterflies. I enjoy seeing him when I can.”

“Ah,” Elia said. “A  _ him _ . That makes it a little easier for you.”

Celia continued, not quite sure what Elia meant. “I miss him when I don’t see him, but I don’t want to bother him so I enjoy our time together when I get it.”

“Is there a reason you can’t pursue the chance of figuring out if it’s infatuation or love?”

“He’s a kingsguard, your grace,” she said. “It’s not as though anything could come from it. So, wouldn’t it be better to think it’s infatuation? But that hasn’t worked at all so far.”

Elia watched her for a moment. “You’re speaking of Ser Arthur aren’t you?”

Celia blushed slightly. “Please don’t tell Ashara.”

The princess sighed. “I won’t tell Ashara, that’s something you should tell her yourself. However, Arthur is a good man, a safe man to rest your feelings in until duty calls. Many women have done it before and I have no doubt many will do it after.”

Celia chewed her bottom lip and nodded. 

—

“My lady!” a servant called out to her as she walked with Ashara. Celia turned and saw a boy around her age run up to her. He held out a handkerchief to her. “You dropped this, my lady.”

Celia took it and examined it. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Thank you! My sister made this for me. I would have been so sad to discover I lost it.”

“It’s no trouble, my lady,” the boy blushed. “Plenty would do anything to earn your thanks.”

Celia blushed. “Thank you.”

He bowed, but Celia could see his ears had turned red. 

“You’re quite popular,” Ashara said as they continued on their way. 

“Not as popular as you,” Celia said. 

Ashara just rolled her eyes. “Perhaps, but you are the newest face amongst us. And a pretty one at that.”

Celia knocked her shoulder to Ashara’s and blushed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Ashara grinned. “Awe, your blushing.”

“Am not,” she said as her face heated. 

Her friend laughed. “Are too!”

—

Elia wasn’t feeling well and Celia was worried, but the maester said the princess had always had a weak body and simply needed rest. Since Celia wasn’t too sure about the maester’s words she asked Ashara to confirm it and the other Dornish woman did just that.

Since Ashara was busy doing things in place of Elia, such as writing letters to Dorne and dealing with the more political aspects of being the crown prince’s consort, Celia was left to play with Rhaenys.

Personally, Celia felt like she got the better part of the arrangement. 

The princess was adorable and the cutest babe Celia had ever seen. She took entirely after her mother although her eyes were the same shape as Prince Rhaegar’s and seemed to have flecks of violet in them. She had the chubbiest cheeks and Celia loved pressing her own to the princess’ and nuzzling into her. She was also quite the happy baby, babbling on and on. 

If Celia could die from cuteness, she would have been dead for an hour already. 

Celia laughed as Rhaenys pulled slightly on her hair and waved her hair about in her tiny fist as though it were a flag. A chuckle came from the door and Celia turned to find Ser Arthur watching her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally feel like Rhaegar would have been affectionate in public (like he was putting on a show) while not really being so in private.
> 
> Also, as I was writing I found it odd that Rhaegar names Rhaenys as he did because the original Visenya was the oldest of her siblings. What do you think the reasoning behind that was?


	6. Arthur III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today because we had guest yesterday, which meant I went to bed super late and couldn’t write much.
> 
> However, slight Jonsa vibes/tropes in this chapter today! ❤️

Arthur could still remember his father asking if he understood what he was giving up by taking the white. If he understood all that would be denied him should he take the vow of the kingsguard. 

“You’ll never marry,” his father had said. “You’ll never have children.”

“You have presented almost every possible woman to me,” he had naively said. “I have no interest in them and I doubt I would want children. It is simply not what the gods have planned for me. I am not your heir. I have no need to have a wife or sons. It’s an honor to serve the king and it's my duty to serve as a representative to our house and Dorne in King’s Landing.”

His father had looked at him sadly. “What is honor compared to a woman’s love?” He asked, his fingers touching a necklace that held a miniature portrait of Arthur’s late mother. “What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms?” He brushed Arthur’s curls from his face. “You will have none of that Arthur. You will miss the greatest joys of a man’s life.”

“I do not want it,” Arthur said. “I wish to be like Aemon the Dragonknight and live in legends and songs and be the man boys dream of being.”

“We are only human, Arthur,” his father said. “The gods have fashioned us for love. It is our greatest glory and our greatest tragedy. Don't deny yourself when you have him yet to truly experience the world.”

“You cannot change my mind,” Arthur insisted.

His father sighed. “Then I pray you do not regret your decision.”

—

Arthur watched silently as Lady Celia played with the little princess. She was good with children, not seeming to mind when Rhaenys pulled on her bodice or hair. In fact, she seemed to find joy in it. The little princess grabbed a lock of Lady Celia’s hair and began waving it around like a flag, the color reminiscent of the Targaryen red. The image elicited a chuckle from him and she looked up at him, her blue eyes bright like a summer sky. 

“Ser Arthur,” she said. Smiling at him, a slight flush to her cheeks. 

He wasn’t naive enough to think it was solely due to his presence. She was possibly embarrassed. She would have blushed had anyone come in. 

“You’re good with children,” he said gently sitting beside her and tucking a lock of the princess’ hair behind her ears. She reminded him of Ashara and Allyria when they were small, especially Allyria since he had a better memory of her childhood. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I hope I do, in truth.l she looked to him with a shy smile playing upon her pink lips. “I hope to have a handful of my own one day.”

The answer seemed to twist a knife in Arthur’s gut. He could see it, see her with a faceless man and a swelling belly. She would glow. He smiled back at her and focused on the little princess. 

He would have no part of it. That future was out of his reach. He had sworn against it long before he had known her. 

—

“You seem to know Lady Celia well,” Arthur said, trying to make conversation with his squire. 

Jaime grunted as he blocked Arthur’s sword. “Our fathers wanted to betroth is,” he said simply and Arthur’s heart skipped a beat and Jaime almost hit his shoulder with his live steel if Arthur hadn’t blocked it quickly. 

“Oh?” Arthur asked, his voice tight. “Do you have plans to marry then after you’re knighted?”

The Lannister boy snorted. “If I were to marry, it wouldn’t be to her. Gods that would be a horrid marriage. I would be bald within a year and she would probably murder me in my sleep for a minor offense.”

“You still seem to get along better than most men and women do.”

Jaime shrugged. “She’s easy to talk to,” he said. “Besides, what do you care? It’s not like you can marry. Are you trying to live vicariously through me?”

Arthur didn’t answer, but instead insisted they continue training. 

—

Arthur stood outside the door as he heard the king grunting and the queen crying. His heart twisted in his chest and his fists were so tight that his knuckles turned white. 

He glanced at Ser Barristan and found the man looking resolutely ahead as though he heard nothing. 

Arthur turned forward again and closed his eyes, trying and failing to do the same. 


	7. Celia IV

The violet, lilac, and lavender were lovely against the white fabric of the handkerchief. She had always loved flowers, especially ones that did not grow as easily in the Riverlands. They were more precious that way. She remembered, also, of her mother telling her that all flowers had meaning. Violets for true love, lilac for the beginning of love, and lavender for silent devotion. They were all such beautiful flowers. 

She was finishing the stitching when she realized they were also the colors matching that of House Dayne. 

An image came to her mind of Ser Arthur holding the fabric to his lips, kissing her needlework and telling her that he would treasure it. She blushed and shook the thought away. 

The tourney at Lannisport was coming up soon. Perhaps she should give it to someone as a favor. Her first thought went to Ser Arthur, but she brushed the thought away again. Perhaps Jaime, but he would most likely scoff at the idea and since it was at Lannisport, his father would be more keenly aware of his son wearing a girl’s favor. 

“Elia?”

The princess looked up at her, working on a favor for her husband. “Yes?”

“I’m making this favor, but I don’t know who I should give it to,” she said nervously. “Who—”

“Give it to Ser Arthur,” the princess said simply. 

Celia looked up at her wildly. “What?! I–I can’t! I’m trying to move—”

“Let it be a way for you to deal with your feelings while also thinking of it as a way to help Ashara. She’s off in Dorne right now and she usually makes a favor for her brother, but she can’t this time around.” Elia smiled. “Give yourself this one thing. I’m sure Ser Arthur will wear it proudly.”

“But—”

“No buts.” She shook her head. “Put all your feelings into it and then give it to him. Perhaps it will help you better let him go, although I do not think you need to.”

Celia blushed and nodded, looking at the handkerchief in her hands, holding it tightly. 

—

Celia tried to think of a time and place to give Arthur her favor. She didn’t want to make a big deal about it as some of the ladies at court did. She didn’t want to giggle and parade it about and tuck it into his breast pocket. She wanted to do it discreetly. She wanted it to be a moment between the two of them. 

She carried it on her wherever she went since she had apparently made a habit of running into him almost everywhere. However, she didn’t run into him at all as those going to Lannisport were preparing for the journey. 

She tried to find him, even shyly asking Jaime and Ser Barristan, but neither were very helpful, sending her to places where she missed him completely. 

Celia would catch sight of him and then he would be gone. 

It didn’t help that he seemed to be haunting her dreams now. Dreams that were hardly chaste. 

She would dream of him above her, his eyes dark and wanting. She had seen him shirtless once in the training yard, his muscles hard and defined. She had blushed so terribly when she had seen him that way. His arms and stomach… Celia was unsure if she could survive visiting Dorne for she had felt such heat pool in her belly when she saw him. It was something she felt in her dreams as well. 

He was above her, his lips upon her neck and his hands upon her breasts. 

She would wake up feeling utterly alone and wanting. Celia would grasp at her breasts herself, trying to mimic the feeling of the dreams, but it wasn’t the same. The heat curled in her belly like a dragon and she wanted desperately to feel a release, but she was too nervous to try anything, too nervous to touch herself and feel relief. 

Celia buried her face in her pillow and tried to sleep, tried to tell herself that her infatuation was just that and she didn’t need to dwell on it. Besides, he probably didn’t think of her that way anyway. 

—

Even as they traveled, they kept missing each other. Even in the rare moments where they might run into one another…

“Ser Arthur,” she would begin. 

“Yes, my lady?” he would answer. 

And then one or both of them would be called away before she could properly ask if he even wanted her favor. She told Jaime about it and he had rolled his eyes at her, which only made her feel more foolish. Then he had offered to give it to Ser Arthur on her behalf, and she had refused. Again, he had merely rolled his eyes at her. 

The dreams were getting worse too. 

It had to be because she was obsessing. 

Even so, she would wake up panting for him and wanting, feeling so very alone and, strangely, empty. Gods, was this what torture felt like?

She felt as though she were going mad. 

The songs made love and all its yearnings sound so appealing. Whoever had written them had obviously never been in love. 

No, she shook her head. It wasn’t love. Her feelings for Ser Arthur were merely infatuation and nothing deeper.

Her feelings for him could go nowhere. She needed to move forward.

—

“Ser Arthur,” Elia said and Celia stiffened beside her friend. 

The knight came over to the princess and bowed. “Yes, your grace?”

“I seem to have forgotten my fan, but I am needed for the opening speeches of the tourney. Could you escort Celia to my rooms? She knows where it is.”

Celia looked at her friend in horror, but Elia just winked at her. If Celia were not a lady, she would be swearing by now. 

“Of course.” He offered her his arm. “My lady.”

Celia took his arm and let her guide her back to Elia and her husband’s rooms. They walked in near utter silence and Celia felt that she was growing redder than her hair. She wanted to sink into the floor and disappear forever. 

She could feel the muscles underneath his shirt and she wanted so desperately to squeeze it, but she would rather die, which is what would happen if she did squeeze them anyway. They reached the rooms and Celia found the fan so obviously laid out upon the bed. It wasn’t even subtle. 

“Here it is,” she said nervously. 

“It appears so.” He offered his arm again. “My lady.”

“Ser Arthur, actually—”

“Yes?”

Gods he was handsome. It should be a crime for a man to be so kind and handsome and good and gentle. It was a crime that he was a man she could never have, never been allowed to have. 

Celia pulled out her favor and pressed it to his chest with such force that he stumbled slightly. “I made this for you.”

Gods, she was going to die of embarrassment wasn’t she?

Ser Arthur took the favor in his hands and looked at it. “A favor?”

“I—” her mind raced. “I know Ashara isn’t here to make a favor for you as she normally does, so I thought I would make you one as well. As a thank you.”

_ As an I love you.  _ She felt her cheeks heat and pushed the thought away. 

“I know it’s not much, but—”

“Thank you, Lady Celia,” he said gently, smiling down at the handkerchief. See Arthur held it over his heart. “I shall wear it for the tourney proudly.”

Oh how Celia wished to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, but she remained frozen and simply returned his smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, we get an accidental kiss next chapter! 🥰😘


	8. Arthur IV

She had said it was not much, but it was a beautiful favor. 

Normally, he only accepted favors from Ashara. His sister was not the best at the needle, but she was rather good at stitching their house’s crest to the corner of a handkerchief. It was a sweet, thoughtful gift from his sister that he had come to respect. 

Because Ashara was gone for this tourney, many a lady had offered him their favor and he had respectfully declined them. It hadn’t felt right to accept their favor, yet he couldn’t refuse Lady Celia’s. 

It was an ivory handkerchief embroidered with violets—true love—lilac—beginning of love—and lavender—silent devotion. Arthur doubted that she knew what the flowers meant as few studied the language of flowers, but it made Arthur’s heart thunder in his chest at the thought and he quickly brushed such a feeling aside. 

“Thank you, Lady Celia,” he said gently, smiling down at the handkerchief. See Arthur held it over his heart. “I shall wear it for the tourney proudly.”

She smiled at him gently and how Arthur felt pulled to her. It was as though a string connected them and he could not pull away from her in fear of snapping it. Gods he did not know what would happen if such a thing snapped. 

An image of him walking her back against the desk, not wanting to take someone else’s bed, and kissing her there, pulling her skirts up until they were one and he belonged to her completely. 

He shook his head. It was because of the foolish dreams he had been having recently. It meant nothing. 

“Shall I take you back, my lady?”

She nodded and took his offered arm. 

—

He tied her favor to his wrist the color that matched his eyes being the most visible of the colors. 

“You look very handsome,” Lady Celia said gently. Arthur felt his heart pound slightly against his chest. “That’s what Ashara always tells you, isn’t it?”

“Y–yes,” Arthur said, his voice straining. “Thank you.”

She nodded. 

“I—” the lie fumbled on his tongue. “I usually kiss my sister on the cheek for luck. May I?”

“Of course,” she said quietly. 

He had truly meant for it to be on the cheek. He truly had. But instead, his lips had found her own, soft as velvet and he could taste the honey and lemons upon her lips. He pulled away quickly and knew the kiss must have lasted only a second.

Even so, her pink tongue swiped at her lips as though to catch the remainder of his taste upon it. His eyes follows its movements and he could feel his cock twitch in his trousers, which seemed to grow ever more tight. 

“I meant to kiss you on the cheek,” he breathed, heat coming into his cheeks and he had yet to even step upon the field. “Forgive my rudeness, my lady. Forgive my theavery.”

“Is it theft when it was freely given?” she asked him softly.

He looked her in the eye and found them dark, pools of darkness that called him in, begging for more. Just one more taste. He stepped closer to her. They were so close. So very—

“Come now, Arthur!” Prince Rhaegar called. “I can’t have my best whitecloak dwaddling!”

Arthur pulled back and his eyes began to shift from hunger to shame. She was a girl innocent of the world and he was a member of a chaste guard. There was nothing between them, there could be nothing between them. 

Yet…

As he followed after Rhaegar, it felt as though every vow he had ever taken was broken in that single touch. 

—

Rhaegar’s lance hit Arthur’s armor squarely in the chest and he was knocked from his horse, falling on the ground with such force that all the air was knocked from his lungs. 

Seven hells it hurt. 

As his squire, Jaime rushed out to help him up and then guide Arthur’s horse off the field. 

“How in the seven hells did you lose?” Jaime asked. “You’re the greatest knight in all Seven Kingdoms and you were unseated halfway through the tourney.”

“It happens,” Arthur said with a shrug. He winced. He might have dislocated his shoulder in the landing. Shit. “Tourneys are just as much about luck as it is with skill. Which rider is facing the sun? Who had the bad chicken the night before and so on. Everyone has a bad day. I guess today is just my unlucky one.”

“Maybe it’s your favor’s fault?” Jaime asked. “It’s not one you usually have. So maybe it brought you bad luck?”

“It’s—” he stopped when he saw Celia turning away from them quickly. “Lady Ce—”

He tried lifting his hand to her but a sharp pain pinched at his shoulder. Damn. It was definitely dislocated. 

—

Celia avoided him for the rest of the tourney. He tried desperately to speak to her, dance with her, but to no avail. She asked bloody Stannis Baratheon for a dance in an attempt to avoid him. 

He wanted to tell her it was okay and that her favor was not the reason he had not won the tourney, but he wasn’t finding the chance to. 

He wanted to comfort her as he might have comforted Ashara or Allyria. Yet… that wasn’t right. Comforting her as a brother didn’t feel right. He started to plan a way to comfort her properly and apologize for the miscommunication between them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He keeps trying to relegate his feelings to those of a brother and it’s just not working. I wonder why 😏


	9. Celia V

What if what Jaime said was true? What if her favor had caused Arthur to lose? 

Logically, Celia knew that was impossible. It wasn’t as though she asked the gods to bless it or used some sort of dark magic upon it. Even so, what if there was fault in the favor? What if she had used too much thread in the corner and it caused a balance issue in his hand? What if it threw off his arm or grip on the lance?

Tears began to form in her eyes at the thought. 

She blinked them away quickly as she stood next to Elia who had begun clapping. Rhaegar had won the tourney. He brought over the crown of summer roses for Elia and tossed them in his wife’s lap. 

Elia was smiling and blushing ever so slightly. 

Celia smiled for her friend as she placed the crown of roses on her head, the golden yellow roses sat perfectly upon her dark hair and matched the color of her dress almost perfectly. 

“How do I look?” Elia asked.

“Beautiful, as always,” Celia smiled. “I doubt there is a woman in Westeros who is more beautiful than you.”

Elia laughed and nudged Celia with her shoulder. “Flattery will get you almost everywhere.”

Celia smiled. She looked out amongst the crowd and saw Arthur looking at her. A blush crept to her cheeks. She could still taste the bitter wine upon his lips when theirs had touched accidentally. It had felt as though the brief kiss had lasted a thousand years, but it had only been a handful of seconds. 

What if it was her kiss that had brought him bad luck?

Celia looked away, ashamed. 

—

She had not allowed herself to be anywhere near Arthur. It hurt. Hurt more than she knew it should. She was so very used to his presence, so used to her hand on his arm or his hand on the small of her back as they danced around one another in a literal and figurative sense. 

Their relationship had always been an odd one considering their positions within the Red Keep. There was something so right about it and yet so very wrong. 

It was like a dance, where they were in the same grouping but not true partners. They orbited each other in a close circle. A knuckle running along the curve of her skirt. A fan running against his thigh. One hand brushing against another. They would come together only for their breath to mingle and then diverge as the dance took them in opposite directions.

But in those seconds where they faced one another. It was an eclipse. The world was their own, both hidden for a moment in time that was theirs. Just theirs.

It was as though the masks society made them wear were gone. He was not Ser Arthur Dayne, Kingsguard and Sword of the Morning, and she was not Lady Celia Tully, court lady of Princess Elia Martell and daughter of Lord Hoster Tully. They were simply Arthur and Celia. In those moments together, all pretense faded away and Celia knew it to be a dangerous thing. 

Once they had returned to the Red Keep, Celia continued to avoid him. She had to remain Lady Celia. A line was being blurred and Celia worried what would happen if he or she crossed it by accident. Would there be any chance of stepping back if they did? She didn’t know. 

She returned to her room after helping Elia, who had gotten rather sick recently. When she opened the door, she was surprised to find a bouquet of winter roses upon her desk. She closed the door behind her and went to them. There was a note. 

_ Celia, _

_ I cannot go on with this avoi _ _ dance _ _. Ha, I made a pun. Please meet me in Queen Rhaella’s garden an hour before supper.  _

_ Yours, _

_ Arthur _

Celia felt a blush come to her cheeks at the word  _ yours.  _ Hers? He couldn’t possibly mean it in that way. Surely not. 

However…

Celia freshened up, ever so slightly, so she might look presentable when they met. 

—

Celia smoothed out her skirts as she waited for Arthur in the garden. The queen’s garden was beautiful. The flowers seemed to always be in bloom and she had flowers from all across the contentment blooming there. It smelled divine, just sweet enough to cause any to feel peaceful and happy amongst the flowers and plants. 

She stood when she heard footsteps and curtsied when she saw it was Arthur. He was wearing his white cloak and white armor. He looked dashing in it. He looked handsome. He was, no doubt, the image most girls conjured when they thought of a knight in shining armor to come and save them from dragons or any other sort of beast or fiend. 

Arthur bowed to her. They then stood there for a moment, just staring at one another, no longer sure of what to say. “Shall we sit?”

Celia nodded and they both sat down upon the bench Celia had previously occupied. She arranged her skirt so that it might not look wrong should anyone come upon them. 

“Ser Arthur—”

“Lady Ce—”

They both paused and smiled at one another, both chuckling ever so slightly. 

“You first,” Celia offered. 

He coughed and appeared to collect himself and his thoughts. “You can deny me anything, my lady,” he began. “You can deny me your favor or your friendship, but if you wish to end it, let it be said so in person and not in your absence.” Hesitantly, he took one of her hands in his. “I have missed your presence in my life and I feel as though I am missing a great part of me when we are not together. It’s like joy has lessened and I suddenly don’t know where it has gone save for the few moments I glimpse you.”

Celia blushed. His speech sounded rehearsed, but he also spoke quickly, as though he was worried that she would interrupt him before he finished. 

“You can deny me anything and I shall listen, but I will still beg that you not deny me your friendship.”

“I don’t want to deny you that,” Celia said softly. I wish to remain friends.” The word twisted in her stomach ever so slightly. “I just felt embarrassed for the tourney. I know I should not feel as though I am to blame for your loss, but at the same time…”

Arthur brought her hand to his lips. They were like velvet against her skin and his beard scratched her ever so slightly that it sent a tingle up her spine. “You are not to blame. I would wear your favor for every tourney after this to prove it to you.” 

Celia blushed. Arthur looked up and Celia realized one of them had moved closer and she could feel his warm breath fam across her face. Arthur looked down and away. 

“Are we friends?” He asked. 

Again, the word twisted in her stomach. “Of course.”

—

Soon after Celia and Arthur struck up their friendship again, Ashara returned to the Red Keep with a flourish and tales of her oldest brother, once again, attempting to make a match for her. Ashara appeared somewhat determined to never marry and to never be held down by a man. Dornishmen seemed to be the ones she preferred when she did flirt more truly as they were the ones to treat her as an equal and not some chess piece to be moved at their own bidding. 

However, Ashara’s return was not the news that began to buzz around the keep. 

“I’m with child,” Elia said, grasping her two friends’ hands.

The princess was pregnant once more and an heir could he presented to court within a year’s time. 


	10. Arthur V

“Congratulations, your grace,” Arthur said, grinning from ear to ear. Ashara had squealed so loudly when she told him in the training area that he was certain most of the knights were deaf. His sister and been vibrating with excitement and hugged Arthur, she was so excited. “May the gods grant you a son and heir, but if it is another princess, may she have all the beauty and kindness of her parents.”

Rhaegar merely nodded as he continued to pour over the book he had in his hand, his lips thinning into a firm line. “I do not need one more child,” Rhaegar said, closing his book. “I need two.”

“Your grace?”

“The dragon needs three heads.”

Arthur thought about the sigil of House Targaryen and wasn’t certain if that had to do with the three heads thing or not. 

“You and Princess Elia are still young, I’m sure after she’s rested from this next birth, maybe with a year to heal, you’ll have a third child?”

“I need the third child soon,” the prince muttered and began writing notes in High Valyrian. 

“Perhaps the princess will have twins?”

“Three heads…”

Arthur narrowed his eyes in confusion at the prince. Why was he not more excited? Shouldn’t all fathers be excited for their child being brought into the world, yet Rhaegar seemed more concerned with a third child. Children were celebrated in Dorne, why did the prince not seem celebratory?

“Your grace—”

“You can leave now, Arthur,” the prince said dismissively. 

The knight frowned and bowed ever so slightly before bowing to the prince and leaving, just as confused as he had been, but still very much happy for the princess. 

—

“Would you like to dance, my lady?” Arthur asked, offering his hand to Celia. 

She smiled up at him and took his offered hand. “It would be an honor, Ser.”

He led her onto the dance floor and pulled her to him, one hand on her waist and another in her hand. Her free one rested lightly on his shoulder and they began to dance. They swayed to the music, the beat nearly matching Arthur’s heart as he took the woman in his arms in. 

She wore another Dornish dress with a slightly fuller skirt that looked more like a Riverland fashion. It was a deep blue, but there was gold trim upon the skirt and sleeves. Her lips were painted a pale shade of pink and her eyes outlined with black like Ashara’s normally were. Her hair was loose save for a braid that pulled her hair from her face. She was beautiful as she smile widened when he turned her quickly upon the upbeat of the music and her laughter rang happily in the air. 

He loved her. 

Gods he loved her. 

It was well beyond the idea of being attracted to her. This was more, greater. 

He loved her. 

He didn’t know when it had begun. He didn’t know when he started, but he loved her. He loved her and he  _ loved _ her. 

And based on the way she smiled and the way her blue eyes seemed to shine like stars as she looked up at him… he thought maybe—maybe—she loved him too.

—

Arthur helped the princess into her bed after she finished owning a letter to her brothers telling them the official news of her second pregnancy. 

“You’re sleeping for two now, your grace,” Arthur joked. “Rest well.”

He bowed and made to leave. 

“You love her, don’t you?”

Arthur froze from his place at the door. He looked back and saw the princess looking at him with her tender gaze.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, your grace.”

“Celia.”

His hand tightened upon the knob of the door. Her blue eyes haunted him, the ghosting touches of her hand against his arm as he escorted her, the shape her mouth took when saying his name was imprinted upon his memory. Her smile and the feel of her in his arms.

“I am a kingsguard, your grace. I have sworn to take no wife and to have no...” He couldn’t give her what she deserved, what she desired. He could see a faceless man with his arms around her, her belly rounding, her smiling.

The thrill of realizing his feelings felt like a stab in the belly. 

“Don’t worry,” Elia said. “Your secret is safe with me.”

—

She wore a dress of red and gold that day. It was similar to the dress she wore for the ball, with the primary color being red and the skirt looking more Dornish than the other. 

“You look beautiful as always, my lady,” he told her as he met her in the queen’s gardens. 

“You look rather handsome yourself, Ser,” she smiled. 

“ _ Rather  _ handsome?” he asked. “You wound me.”

Celia slapped his chest lightly and a giggle bubbles from her throat. “I believe you have too many women complimenting your good looks already. Ashara tells me someone must keep your pride in check.”

“Their compliments mean nothing,” he told her. “But one from you could last me a whole life time.”

She smiled at him. Beautiful. Celia smoothed our the edges of his white cloak and he longed to feel her fingers run across his skin, but he felt nothing through the armor. 

“If I complimented you every time I wanted to, I feel like I might never stop.”

“Oh?”

“You distract me, Ser.”

“In what ways do I distract you?” he asked, taking a lock of her long hair and examining it. 

“You are far too handsome and kind. You are good with Princess Rhaenys and I have seen how you treat the little prince so carefully. You are so easy to love I—”

She stopped and Arthur’s gaze slowly turned to her blue eyes. She stared at him for a moment and he had not realized how close he had brought his head. He watched as she began to blush and his gaze followed her tongue as it darted out to wet her lips. 

It did not take much to bring his lips to hers. They were as soft as he remembered. He cupped her face in his hands and let his fingers slide into her hair. It only took a second for her to return the kiss with equal fervor as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He walked her back until she was pressed against one of the garden walls. She gasped upon the slight impact and Arthur took the opportunity to explore her mouth with his tongue and she moaned softly as she pulled him tighter to her. 

One of his hands went to her hip and a jolt went through his body, ending southward. 

She tentatively forced her tongue into his own mouth and he groaned as one of her hands began to fist at his hair. 

He came up for breath and she began to pant, her eyes dark with want and he began to kiss just under her ear and down her neck. He was growing hard, painfully so, as she held him close.

“Arthur,” she mewled, her voice sending more blood southward. “Arthur.”

Something crunched the leaves near them and Arthur pulled away in an instant, the spell broken. He turned around, standing between the intruder and Celia only to see it was Princess Rhaenys’ cat. 

“Arthur,” Celia put her hand on his shoulder and tried to pull him back to her, but he remained frozen as he watched the cat leave. That could have been a person. Someone could have come in and seen them. They would have reported to Rhaegar, or worse, the king. “Arthur?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, choking on the words. “We can’t.”

He pulled away from her, his heart crumbling as he did so. Arthur bowed slightly to her, noting her kiss bruised lips, and left quickly. 

He could not ruin her. He couldn’t. She had a future for herself that he could not be part of. He would not take that from her. 

No matter how much he wanted to. 


	11. Celia VI

Celia left the garden soon after, still tasting him upon her lips, still feeling a deep ache within her that she didn’t fully understand. She felt as though some great part of her was missing and everything wrong with the world had suddenly collided in her chest and had shattered something deep within her all at once. 

His apology and his denial of their kiss felt like a betrayal that Celia might never recover from. It felt as though the world had been presented to her, only for it to be taken away from her a second later. 

What would have happened if the cat had not made such an interruption?

Would he be kissing her still?

Would she have felt the stiffness she had felt against her hip find relief against her?

Would the ache between her legs have found relief?

But no. 

It was something to apparently apologize for. It was something that could never be done again. 

A quiet sob escaped her lips and Celia rushed to her room quickly as to not cry in public. 

When she reached her room, she closed the door and threw herself onto her bed, letting herself cry into the pillow with such deep passion, all the feeling and pain that went into the rejection of her continued want. 

Why had the gods allowed her to fall in love with a man she could not have? Why had they given her such passion only to ask her to not act on it?

Why had she fallen for a man that was so entrenched in his own honor that he could not act out the obvious affection he had for her?

How could she possibly love another when her feelings for Ser Arthur Dayne could not possibly be resolved. 

—

_ Dear Cat, _

_ Perhaps it was a mistake for me to come here.  _

_ Perhaps it was a mistake for me to leave the safety of our home in Riverrun for now I know and understand the dangers of the world outside our father’s protection to a degree I never thought myself to be in.  _

_ I am in love with Ser Arthur Dayne and it cannot and should not be reciprocated. My love for him will be a passion that burns within my chest and will forever be denied to me.  _

_ Cat, what should I do? _

_ I cannot simply return to my ignorance and act as if nothing has happened between us. (Nothing has, I swear, my virtue is still in tact, but I wish it were not.) _

_ How am I to continue on when I feel so rejected? Did the gods not make us to love? Are we not meant to find happiness in the world? _

_ Forgive the abruptness of this letter, but I find I cannot carry on like this.  _

_ Oh, Cat, what should I do? _

_ – Celia _

She readied the letter for delivery and then began to pen another one. 

_ Arthur, _

_ I cannot suffer in silence. If I am unable to speak of my love for you, then I shall write it. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me that you do not return my affection for although you kissed me first, you never answered my declaration. I offer myself to you again, even though you have rejected me once already.  _

_ I know I am young and innocent of the world, but that does not discount my love and affection for you.  _

_ A word, a look, that is all I ask for. Even if your body can never truly be mine, may I not have your heart as you now have mine? Is it so impossible between us? _

_ Yours, always yours, _

_ Celia _

She threw her letter to Arthur in the fire, knowing he could and should and would never read it. 

—

Another ball was held and Celia found that Arthur did everything in his power to not be within the same circle as her. He danced with Ashara, Elia, and almost every woman in the room, save her. 

It was apparently obvious to quite a few people that some sort of rejection had taken place, considering the sideways glances she was receiving. Mainly by women who would smirk at her and Celia felt as though she were at her first ball all over again. She was out of place. A fish out of water drowning in air that was not meant for her. 

If she had no pride at all, she would have left the ball immediately, but she chose to remain firm regardless. 

Jaime, of all people, was her greatest comfort. Although they had always agreed to never dance more than once, he began to take up every dance she was willing to with her. 

“He may not act like it, but he is miserable,” he told her. “Arthur is just good at acting like things are fine when they aren’t. You should have seen him the other day. He looked like a kicked dog that was denied his mate.”

Celia blushed. “It matters not,” she said quietly. “He has sworn his vows.”

Jaime said nothing for a good long while. “I’m sorry, Celia,” he said at last. “You deserve happiness someday.”

Her smile was small, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Thank you, Jaime.”

—

Celia and Ashara day by Elia’s bed, tending to the princess as she remained bed bound. 

Elia was always smiling, loving her friends and her people. She was the kindest person that Celia knew and she hated seeing her friend uncomfortable. 

“Rhaenys’ birth had been hard on her,” Ashara told her when the princess fell asleep. “Really hard. I thought she and Rhaegar would wait for a while before they tried for an heir. But…” She frowned. “I don’t like the prince.”

Celia glanced about them and was happy to see that no servants were in the room to hear them. “Me either,” she confided. “He hasn’t paid much attention to her at all unless they are in public and he has to.”

“He acts as though he were the only one forced to have this marriage. The king commanded it. It’s not as though the Martells could say no. He’d rather spend his time with his harp than helping her at her bedside while she carries his child.” Ashara huffed. “If it weren’t treason, I would smash his precious harp over his head.”

Celia had to purse her lips to keep herself from laughing too loudly. 

“I’m just worried of what will happen when my father calls me home to marry someone,” Ashara said. “I don’t want to leave her.”

“I’ll stay then,” Celia said. “My sister is betrothed and I have another sister and a brother. My father has no real need of me. I can dedicate myself to the princess. It’s a noble pursuit.” She looked at Elia. “She’s my friend and I shall care for her, if that is what the gods wish for me to do, then I will do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celia’s unsent letter to Arthur is based off of Captain Wentworth’s letter from Persuasion. 
> 
> Jaime is a good bro.
> 
> And I hate Rhaegar. Have I mentioned that?


	12. Arthur VI

Arthur did what he could to at least be around her. He could not love her openly, but he could care for her as a friend or brother might. He always made sure Ashara or the princess was present. He could not trust himself alone with her. He could not trust himself to be her sole companion and not take advantage of the softness of her lips or the subtle curves of her body. 

He became base when he was around her. 

“Just so you know,” Ashara said as they journeyed to Harrenhal for a tourney. “I’ve made no favor for you this time.”

Arthur blinked at his sister. “What?”

“I didn’t make you a favor,” his sister repeated. 

“Why? You always do except for the last time…”

His sister shrugged. “We’re far too old for us to keep doing this. Besides, Father said he wished for me to see if any man might hold my interest. You would scare any off if I gave you my favor.”

“Then am I to participate in the tourney with no favor?” Arthur asked. 

“Not at all,” his sister assured him. “I’ve asked Celia to make you one. She was quite nervous about it, but I assured her that you’d get no other from me so she might as well considering she’s not interested in making one for any other man.”

Arthur blushed once his sister was called by Princess Elia. What sort of favor might Celia make this time?

—

“Ashara said you were in need of a favor,” Celia said softly. She was not looking at him, not when they were together I private, or at least near privacy. 

She was as beautiful as ever. She had begun to wear a style closer to that of King’s Landing, but the fabric was still very much Dornish with the colors of House Tully matching with her eyes and hair. Arthur’s gaze rested briefly on her lips, remembering the softness of them. 

“It is not my best work,” she said gently. “But I hope you will like it.”

She nervously handed him the handkerchief. It was dyed lilac with a falling star on one corner and a leaping trout on the other, both embroidered beautifully in white. 

“It’s beautiful, my lady,” he said, taking it from her. He brought the fabric to his lips and pressed them there, looking at her sad blue eyes. “I shall treasure it always.”

“You need not,” she said, stepping back 

“I will,” he said. Celia looked at him, slightly pained. “I have my vows and you are making your own. It does not mean I cannot treasure this gift and swear to give my victory to you, should I earn it.” 

Celia blushed. She opened her mouth to speak when someone called for her and she had to curtsy and leave. 

—

“I need to win this tourney,” Rhaegar told him before any of the matches began. 

“What?” Arthur asked, blinking. It was a given that most men wished to win tourneys, especially those who had sword vows. It was a given and Arthur wasn’t sure why his prince was telling him this. 

“I need to win this tourney,” he repeated. “I have already spoken to the others. They believe it is necessary because my father has come, but…” The prince shook his head before returning his gaze to Arthur. “I must win this tourney.”

Arthur opened his mouth and then closed it. “I cannot promise you such a thing,” he said. “I intend to try my hardest to win.”

Rhaegar turned to him. “I am your prince.”

“But not my king,” Arthur said. “Until you are, I have no reason to listen to you beyond our friendship. I intend to win.” He bowed. “Good fortune, Prince Rhaegar.” He left to get ready for the tourney. 

—

Arthur clutched the crown of winter roses in his hands. This tournament had been the first time he had ever denied his prince anything. The first time he had ever told Rhaegar no. He would not throw his fight to give Rhaegar a better chance at winning the tournament. He would not give way to Barristan where the old man might leer at Arthur’s sister. This was one of the few opportunities he had to declare himself, in anyway, a man of his position could, a man who had sworn to never give his heart to anyone save his king and country.

He rode towards her as she sat next to the princess, next to his sister. Celia had her eyes downcast, respectful and waiting, believing he would crown one of her two friends. Instead, he rode for her. Her hair like fire against the brightness of day, her dress blue like the sapphire ocean that neighbored the Red Keep.

“Lady Celia,” he said, her name like a prayer upon his lips, a prayer he had never allowed himself to utter before. She looked up at him, her eyes, as blue as the sky above them, wide. “Will you do me the honor of being my queen of love and beauty?”

He had told her before, hadn’t he? Told her that she could deny him everything, as she ought. As they both should. She could be free of him, should be free of him. He could offer her nothing but an empty bed and a life without children to surround herself with. They were both too honorable to go against the life the gods had chosen for them. If only he had met her before he had taken his vows. If only he had known what he knew now.

What was honor compared to a woman’s love? What was duty against the feel of a son in his arms? He was only human and the gods had fashioned him to love. Not to love aimlessly, but to love one woman for all his days and to live for those small moments where he might claim her for his own.

Celia’s pink lips parted, he could still taste the kiss which ignited a thousand lonely nights for him, the taste of lemon and rosemary. “It would honor me, Ser.”

She bent her head and he placed the crown of roses upon her head.

_ I love you,  _ he wanted to say. _ I love you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all are going to like the next chapter....  
> We earn our M rating!


	13. Celia VII

Celia had never thought that she would be crowned Queen of Love and Beauty. Not when her sister, Cat, or Elia or Ashara were present. Yet, Arthur had crowned her, before everyone of importance in the kingdom, he had crowned her. 

They opened the dances for that evening and Celia felt as though she were as light as air as he began to turn her around on the dance floor. 

It felt as though there was no one in the great hall but them. 

Based on the look in his eyes, he felt the same.

—

“I think you should return home,” Cat told her. Celia looked to her sister and found Cat looking at Arthur as he danced with Ashara. “You’ve always wanted to get married. I’m sure Father would find you a good husband. It is better than… this, whatever it is.”

“Cat,” Celia said gently. “I do not think it wise for me to marry. It would feel unfaithful.”

“He cannot make you any promises.”

“No, he can’t,” she agreed. “It would feel unfaithful to myself. I feel as though we are connected, he and I. Whatever he is made of, I am as well. I can not deny him my heart.” And she did not know if she could deny him her body if he asked. “It would be unfaithful to myself to give my body to a man I cannot even love half as well as him.” She looked to Cat again. “I know you say this because you worry for me, but I’m fine.” She reached out and squeezed her sister’s hand gently. “I am fine, Cat. I am content.” 

For how long, she did not know. But she could remain as chaste as a septa if it meant she could remain by his side forever. 

—

“I plan on serving Princess Elia until I am old and grey,” she told him as they stood to the side away from the others as they watched the dancing continue. She would return to her friend’s side soon. Her husband was neglecting her and, once more, Celia found herself disliking Rhaegar greatly as he preferred to shower the Stark girl with his affections to everyone’s shock and annoyance. 

“You need not take my feelings into consideration as you plan your life,” Arthur told her gently. “Did you not once say that you wished to be a mother?”

She looked up at him. “My feelings are not so fragile that they will disappear with age. I will give myself to no man but you. If asked, I would proclaim to all the gods that I belong to you and only you. Damn every vow that we have taken. The gods have blessed us with mutual feelings. I cannot fathom them being a test for our morals.” She saw her brother wave at her and she moved towards him. “I am yours, Arthur, to do with as you please.”

—

A knock came to Celia’s door that night and she opened it to see who it was, worried that perhaps Princess Elia was having a rough night. However, she barely had the door opened when Arthur slipped inside and his lips descended upon hers as he closed the door behind him. Celia stumbled back slightly, but Arthur steadied her in his arms and she began to return his kiss greedily. 

Her arms slid around his neck as she began to drink him in. His own hands were upon the sides of her face and his fingers were tangled in her loose hair. As suddenly as he had kissed her, it was suddenly over as well as he pulled away from her, but held her head still. 

“Tell me to leave,” he said roughly. “Tell me to leave now for I shall not stop until I am your own if you do not tell me to leave.”

Celia searched his violet eyes for any bit of doubt, but instead found a deep rooted longing and hunger that she was certain was matched with her own gaze. She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Do not stop,” she whispered, pulling away. “Do not leave. For I am yours and you are mine, from this day until my last.”

His lips were upon hers again and she melted into him, letting her hands slide down his chest as the two grew frantic in their movements. She managed to pull his shirt from his trousers and she moaned softly as she felt the hard planes of his stomach against her fingertips. He parted from her for only a moment as he threw his shirt off. Celia barely had time to appreciate his body when his lips were upon hers again. 

She walked them back to her bed and she then carefully pushed him away until she was able to pull her shift over her head and sat down upon the bed to look up at him. 

His eyes were dark as he simply stared at her and Celia began to cover herself with her arms. “I know I am not—”

“You’re perfect,” he said, pulling her arms away from her so that he might see her fully. “You are the maiden herself come to tempt me. And I will gladly fall into such temptation.”

Celia blushed. “I hope not to remain a maiden,” she whispered. “I want you to take it from me. But this is freely given. Love me, Arthur. Love me please.”

He was upon her again and Celia fell back onto her bed as he began to crawl over her. She moaned loudly as his lips left her own and began to descend upon her neck. It was just as it was in the garden, but more. Her fingers went to the strings of his trousers, hoping to untie them but became distracted. She could feel a hardness brush against her fingers as she touched the laces and Arthur groaned against her neck, nipping at her pulse point. 

Without thought, Celia slid her hand into his trousers and found his hardened length. Arthur groaned again above her and she took it in her hand and squeezed. 

Arthur’s lips left her neck and he instead pressed her forehead against her shoulder. He grunted as he began to roll hips, causing her hand to pump his cock. “Just like that,” he whispered. “Gods, Celia. I’ve dreamed of you like this.”

“You have?” It was strange, holding him in such a way, seeing the way he appeared to come undone, the way he was losing himself. 

“I have dreamed of making you mine for so long…” He kissed her skin again and then his tongue darted out and gave a long swipe along the top of her breast, beginning at her tit. 

“Make me yours,” she begged. “Gods, Arthur, make me yours.”

Suddenly, his fingers were upon the seam of her, rubbing along or, sending a thrill up Celia’s spine. She could feel a slickness between her legs as he continued until—

Celia gasped, throwing her head back as his fingers entered her. They were… they were so thick and she had never… Then he began to  _ move.  _ Celia cried out with every thrust of his fingers and then he suddenly took her breast in his mouth and began to suckle upon it, his tongue constantly against her as his other hand began to squeeze and pinch her other.

Her body began a life of its own as she arched into him, rolling her hips to meet the thrust of his fingers, his name falling out of her lips like a prayer. 

_ Arthur. Arthur. Arthur.  _

Then, his fingers were gone and she began to whine. It felt as though she were climbing up somewhere and she trusted only Arthur to take her to the top. 

Then, she felt his hard cock against the place his fingers had just been.

“Tell me to stop,” he begged. “Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me to give you everything but this and I shall worship you in other ways and keep your maidenhood intact.”

“It is yours,” Celia mewled. “It’s always been yours.”

She gasped as he began to enter her, slowly, ever so slowly until he seemed to meet resistance. Celia lifted her legs and wrapped them around Arthur’s hips and he kissed her temple as he pulled out and thrust in until her was buried deep inside her. She cried out as a sharp pain came upon her, but then she only felt full, so very full and she knew her dreams of him grunting above her could not replace the reality of him doing just as she had once dreamed. 

He settled upon her and she felt as though her head was light, as though she were so high above the ground. But she needed more. She needed friction. 

“Arthur…”

Then, he began to move. It was slow, at first, the way his hip began to roll into hers and then, she could feel Arthur’s restraint slowly begin to fade. He was grunting against her like a wild animal, her name the only thing he could say. 

“H–harder—” She needed more. “Harder!”

He complied, ramming his hips into her own and Celia felt as though all the air had been knocked from her lungs. He had her by the hips, his fingers digging into her skin and she found she didn’t care as she let her head fall back as he continued to ram into her. She was climbing so high. She was getting higher and higher. Her legs began to quiver about him. 

“Arthur—”

“I love you,” he choked. “I love you,” he repeated. “I have loved you since the moment I met you. I love, I love, I love, I love you.” With each declaration, he thrust and Celia came apart around him and she cried out as she began to fall. He became wild then, pounding into her as her body began to tighten around him and she could feel every inch of him until he cried out himself and she could feel his seed spill into her and he collapsed atop her. 

Celia knew not how long they laid there. 

“I love you,” she whispered and found herself drifting into sweet oblivion as exhaustion took her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😘🥳


	14. Arthur VII

Arthur shifted them until he was on his back and she rested atop him. He marveled at the woman who found enough comfort in him to fall asleep in such a compromising way. He marveled at her beauty and the feel of her against him. 

Her skin was like ivory in the moonlight. Her hair like a dulled fire with coppery hair shining against the light. She was beautiful and he belonged to her wholly. He was hers and hers alone. Regardless of whatever vow he had made to the king and prince… he was hers. He was hers and always would be. 

Celia shifted above him and Arthur watched as she pushed herself off from his chest and her hair slipped from her shoulders and fell like a waterfall and looked on his chest. Her cheeks turned crimson as she met his gaze. He knew it was hungry, hungry for her, for more of her touch. His cock twitched at the thought of being one with her once more. 

“Are you embarrassed?” he asked. He cupped her cheek and sat up slightly, pulling her down so she straddled his hips. “Do you regret it?”

She shook her head. “I could never regret you.” Celia cupped his face in her and brought her lips to his own and Arthur groaned as he tasted her again. She pulled away. “I never want to be parted from you. I will take no husband and no lover but you.”

“You would give it all up?”

“It is not me giving up, it is me wishing for something else.” Her breath hitched slightly as his hand rubbed at her hip. “I wish we could stay in this bed forever.”

He smiled at her sadly. “You know we cannot. I have to return to my rooms before the morning comes.”

She looked down. “I know, but even so, it is my wish.”

“Shall I take you again?” he asked gently. “I was… I should have been gentler.”

“It was perfect,” Celia whispered. She pushed herself slightly up onto her knees and he grunted when he felt her wrap her hand around his cock. She began to pump him and Arthur’s head fell back in utter ecstasy as he rolled his hips up into her hand. Celia began to kiss his chin and neck and Arthur lifted his hand to touch the seam of her and found her—

“Gods,” he muttered as he turned them so she was on her back again. He kissed the valley of her breasts and nuzzled the milky skin of one, pressing kisses along the plump skin. The salt of her sweat still clung to her and he couldn’t… 

He lined himself up with her entrance and began to sink in. It felt as though she were pulling him in deeper. 

“I have to leave after this,” he whispered. 

“I know,” she whispered back, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“I suppose I shall make this as slow as possible. So it can be as long,” he pulled out before slowly thrusting back in. “As I possibly can.”

Celia began to pant as he found a steady rhythm and he memorized every sound that escaped her lips, wanting to remember exactly what he did to capture them. 

He remained steady until the very end, when Celia began to cry to him and beg for a faster release.

How could he possibly deny her that? 

The hardest thing Arthur had ever done was kiss her goodbye. How could he possibly leave her alone in that bed now that he knew what he did now?

—

The next day, Rhaegar pushes him against the wall. “I told you I needed to win.”

“And I told you I intended to try my best at winning,” Arthur said, pushing the prince away. “You are free to give your wife all the love and affection in the world.” A strange expression crossed Rhaegar’s face and Arthur did not know what it meant. “I, however, have sworn a vow of chastity.” He could still feel Celia’s hand around him. He could still feel her breath upon his neck as he drove into her, the way his name fell from her lips like a prayer. “This is my only chance to show a woman my devotion.” He shook his head. “If you wish to beat me, Rhaegar, practice more.”

Arthur walked off, heading towards the room offered to the kingsguard so he might pack. 

—

His sister stormed into his room and threw a shirt at him. “How could you?!”

Arthur pulled the shirt from his face and recognized exactly which one it was. He swore under his breath. He’d left it in Celia’s room. 

“Leave!” His sister screeched and the other kingsguard fled as though a dragon were upon them. When his brothers had left him to defend himself, his sister turned on him, her violet eyes wild. “I told you to be careful with her! I told you!”

“I am being careful,” Arthur said carefully.

“And yet the evidence says otherwise,” she snapped. “How could you?”

Arthur sighed. “I need not explain myself to you, Ashara.”

“Celia is my friend and I care about her and her prospects. I will not have you ruin them when you can offer her nothing.”

“My heart is not nothing, Ashara,” he said painfully. “It’s not nothing.”

“You can offer her no security or means of sheltering her as a lord husband might,” Ashara snarled. “You cannot ruin—”

“I love her, Ashara, and she loves me,” he snapped. “She has sworn to never marry and if the gods find our love and devotion to each other as some blasphemous things, then they can damn us both to all seven hells, but at least we shall have each other.” He shook his head. “I love you sister, but these are our own choices. Do not speak ill of my feelings and do not think less of her because she feels the same.” He sighed. “Do not embarrass her, Ashara. I could not bear it.”

—

As they returned to the Red Keep, the two danced around each other and acted as normal in public. But it did not stop them from taking each other against the trees on their journey back. Before all the gods they were one already. Arthur prayed that nothing might separate them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m coming up with rules for a possible Celiaverse contest. Just know there will be 2–3 first place winners who will get a 3k Celiaverse fic of their choice. It might be expanded later on, but it would be a long one-shot. Then there would also be 2–3 second place winners who will get a 1k Celiaverse fic of their choice as well. They can either be screenshots of a verse or even scenes they desperately want to happen in a fic I’ve talked about or already posted.   
> It would be split into 2-3 categories. There would be a fanart section that may be split into photo edits/moodboards and more traditional fanart or put together in one category with the second or theirs category (depending on the art one) being a writing one.   
> You guys could send me things on Tumblr or post them on your own and tag me in them, if you don’t have a tumblr, my submissions is open for you guys to do so on that. Then, I would post all the pictures and fic pieces onto three separate posts on Ao3 and I would allow a vote to go on so YOU guys can choose as much as I can.   
> Tell me what you think!


	15. Celia VIII

Once they returned to the Red Keep, Celia and Ashara spent all their waking hours with Elia and Rhaenys. The little princess enjoyed sleeping next to her mother and father, when Prince Rhaegar decided his family was worthy of his time, but she spent most of her time in Elia’s room and bed. Playing with her dolls and looking at books full of pictures. 

Celia and Ashara had more reason to tend to Elia now more than ever after the incident at Harrenhal. 

Prince Rhaegar had danced with Lady Lyanna Stark twice during the festivities of Harrenhal, while he had only danced with Elia once. While some might brush this off as Elia being in a more delicate position, it was no reason for the crown prince to dance with one woman more than once when plenty of other women had been without dance partners. 

“She’s just a child,” Ashara assured her friend. “She’s of the North and I doubt she’d ever been to a tourney like everyone else had been. Perhaps the prince simply wished to make it a nice one for her since it was her first?”

Celia frowned. “Besides, she is betrothed to Lord Robert Baratheon and he is friends with her brother Eddard. Cat told me so the first time I took notice of her.” Celia thought for a moment. “Everyone knows that Lord Stark has been hoping to better his relations with the south, I doubt his daughter would risk such plans by trying to reach too high when she’s already betrothed to the prince’s cousin.”

“I know you’re right,” Elia said gently. “But Rhaegar has been so distant lately.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “We used to talk constantly and he was always kind, Sven if he was sometimes quiet, but now he just feels so distant and we barely talk at all.”

“Shall I ask Arthur to see what Rhaegar might be thinking?” Ashara suggested. “They’re friends, although I know they had an argument recently.”

“Please do,” Elia said. “I do not know what has come over Rhaegar, but I wish for it to be settled before the babe comes.”

Celia nodded, but the air had seemed to shift ever since Harrenhal and she did not know what to think. 

—

It was another hurried night, one of the many that Celia could have with Arthur. It’s all they were allowed. Stolen moments of heated pleasure that left Celia boneless but never fully sated. 

That night, she was wrapped around him as he pounded into her, hitting her in all the right spots, filling her to the brim until she was crying softly into his neck as she began to fall apart around him, clinging to him for dear life as he sought his own pleasure after her real ease. 

They weren’t a knight and his lady. They weren’t those who have taken vows to other things. They were just a man and a woman, Arthur and Celia. 

Nothing else in the world mattered at that exact moment. 

Arthur continued to pound into her moving the bed ever so slightly with his thrusts. Celia relished with the feel of his back muscles rolling under her fingers and her toes curled painfully at the way he worked her through a powerful release. 

She cried out again, the sound swallowed by his mouth and tongue as he spilled into her, filling her until she felt ready to burst and then he was atop her, boneless and limp above her. 

They stayed there for so long, Celia knew she would have his back memorized. The bronze of his skin, the silvery lines of scars that sprinkled across his back at random, the curve of his back, the width of his shoulders. The dimple at the base of his spine. 

Celia didn’t know how long they stayed there, but it wasn’t long enough when Arthur rolled off of her, slipping out of her, and onto his back. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and Celia could see the exhausted slope of his shoulders. She sat up with him, feeling his seed leak ever so slightly out of her, and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. 

“Stay,” she whispered softly. “Stay until I fall asleep.”

“You know I can’t.”

And she did. She knew full well that he wasn’t allowed to.

Stolen moments. 

That’s all they would ever have. 

Arthur pressed his lips against hers and Celia returned his kiss with just as much tenderness. Then, she had to let him go. 

—

The birth was so difficult. So very difficult. 

Gods, Celia had never seen that much blood in her life. Never, not once. 

Gods.

Elia was crying out in pain as Celia and Ashara tried to soothe her. The maester did his work with the help of a few midwives, but Elia was so pale. So very pale. 

Elia screamed and it was soon joined by a babes. 

“It’s a son, your grace,” the maester said gently as he handed the boy to a midwife and began to work on Elia. 

“It hurts,” the princess whimpered. “It hurts!”

—

Celia sat next to Elia as her friend held the new prince, Aegon, in her arms. She was looking at her son with a smile on her lips, but there were tears in her eyes. Ashara was stroking Elia’s hair and all three women were silent. 

Prince Rhaegar had come in when the maester had announced it was appropriate for him to come in and announced that the boy would be named Aegon.

It was then that the maester said in soft, sorrowful tones that Elia would not be able to have any more children, that it would be too dangerous. 

For once, Celia looked to the crown prince, hoping he might share in his wife’s burden and comfort her. Rumor had it that even the king mourned the loss of his children in the beginning. Instead, the prince’s gaze darkened and he looked disappointed. His violet gaze wasn’t filled with sorrow or worry. It was disappointment. And he had left soon afterward, not even soaring his wife and son a second glance. 

Celia and Ashara stayed with Elia for the rest of the night and let their friend cry until she was too exhausted to stay awake any longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F*** Rhaegar. Am I right or am I right?


	16. Arthur VIII

“How could you do that?” Arthur demanded of the prince. “Elia just gave you a son, she just risked her life  _ again _ so you could have another child and heir. The maester  _ told you  _ it would be too dangerous to have another child so soon, but you didn’t listen. Now she might never have any children again! And instead of comforting her and actually holding you son, you just leave and sulk!” Arthur took a breath. “What in the Seven Hells is wrong with you!?”

“You don’t understand, Arthur,” Rhaegar said. “The dragon needs three heads.”

The Dornish knight stared at him blankly. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t understand. All I do know is that your wife is crying in her rooms without you and you don’t even have the decency to comfort her.” Arthur stepped back. “I don’t know you, Rhaegar. I don’t know you.”

—

They had to be quick. 

It was foolish to take her in the Kingsguard chambers in the middle of the day, where anyone could walk in and see them. But that has not stopped Celia from kissing him and undoing the laces of his trousers after one of his spars with Barristan. 

Arthur lifted her against the wall near his bed and thrust into her easily and began to take her against the wall at a punishing pace, needing to be quick so there was less of a chance to be caught. 

Celia’s teeth were sunken into his shoulder to muffle her cries of pleasure as he felt her begin to flutter around him. She pulled at his hair as he whispered his dirtiest fantasies to her, hoping to get her off. 

“I imagine doing this to you in the sept,” he growled into her ear. “Against the vase of the Maiden.”

She let go of his shoulder and gave out a silent scream as she fell apart around him and Arthur fell right after her. He thrust into her until he was buried deep and spilled. 

He held her there until he was finished and kept her there even when he was. 

“I’m sorry,” Celia said, kissing his shoulder where she had bitten him. He wondered if she had drawn blood. “People will notice.”

“I’ll cover it up,” he told her gently, kissing her hair and helping her down. He helped straighten her out and brushed her skirt to keep the dust of the walls from clinging to her. 

“I wish we didn’t have to hide.” She pressed a kiss to his jaw and Arthur tipped his head down so that he might kiss her in full more gently.

“I do too,” he said after pulling away. “I wish I could shout to the world that I love you every hour of every day.” He kissed her brow. “Ashara and Elia must be looking for you.”

Celia pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’ll let you finish cleaning up.”

Arthur watched her leave and turned away and began to change. He wasn’t good for her, he knew that. She deserves more than what he could give her, but he was too selfish to let her go. 

—

“I’m worried that Prince Rhaegar is planning something,” Ashara told him during their routine walk around the gardens. “He’s been distant from Elia and I can’t stand how much he’s hurting her.”

“I feel like something is going on as well, but Rhaegar has yet to tell me anything,” Arthur admitted. “He’s been acting strangely since Harrenhal, I would even say it began during the tourney.” He frowned. 

“What?” his sister asked. 

“Rhaegar asked me to throw the tourney.”

“He  _ what _ ?”

“He told me to throw the tourney. But I don’t know why.”

“Do you think it has to do with why he’s being so distant?”

“Possibly.” He didn’t know and Arthur didn’t like not knowing. 

—

“Arthur,” the prince said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

The knight folded his arms and waited for the prince to say whatever it was he needed to say. “I’m listening.”

“I have been in correspondence with Lyanna Stark,” Rhaegar said and Arthur’s jaw dropped. “She is to be my second wife and give me the third head of my dragon.”

“Does your father know about this? Elia? Lord Stark?”

“They wouldn’t understand.”

“Of course they wouldn’t understand!” Arthur shouted. “You aren’t making any sense! You really think the Citadel will allow you to take a second wife?! You really think Dorne will allow you to disrespect Elia more than you already have?! Do you really think the Stormlands will welcome you taking their liege lord’s bride from him?! Seven Hells, Rhaegar, do you honestly think anyone would allow you to do such a thing?!”

Rhaegar frowned. “It’s for the good of the seven kingdoms. 

“Like hells it is!”

They continued to argue, but Arthur could not get Rhaegar to see reason. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to get messy soon.


	17. Celia IX

They walked along the beaches of Dorne. She had never been there, but he had described them so beautifully to her as she traced circles on his chest that they haunted her dreams. 

They walked together with a boy with red hair and violet eyes between them. The boy was laughing and happy as she and Arthur picked him up to swing every other step. 

It was peaceful, away from the Red Keep. Away from horrible kings and haphazard princes. 

She wanted that life, that life she could never have. 

But she would treasure it. Treasure the memories that would never be hers. But she would treasure them nonetheless. 

—

_ My dearest Celia, _

_ I’m happy to announce that you have a brother now. A beautiful boy who takes after us all with red hair and blue eyes so clear they might pierce the soul. Your brother Edmure awaits the chance to meet his big sister and I await a chance to see you again. Seeing you at Harrenhal was not enough.  _

_ I have spoken with Cat and she tells me you wish to continue to serve Princess Elia. I ask that you reconsider. Jeffory Mallister has made a request for your hand. Surely you remember him. I know you two became acquainted the last few times he and his family visited Riverrun. I am sure he would make for a good husband should you allow him to be.  _

_ I miss you my darling girl. Please, return to me soon.  _

_ Your father _

Celia looked over her father’s writing. She missed him and her mother and sisters and she desperately wished to meet her brother. However, she could not give herself to another man, not after Arthur. She also couldn’t leave Elia. Not now in her delicate situation. 

_ Dearest Father, _

_ Give my brother a kiss for me as well as one for both my sisters. Give Mother both a hug and a kiss from me as well.  _

_ While I am honored by Lord Jeffory’s request, I shall have to refuse him. I am needed here and I cannot imagine leaving Princess Elia’s side.  _

Or Arthur’s. 

_ She is in such a delicate position. Surely you must have seen the crown prince ignoring his wife in favor of Lyanna Stark. She has been told some rather horrible news as well.  _

It wasn’t well known yet that Elia would be unable to bear any more children. That was a secret for now. 

_ I am needed here and wish to stay here for the rest of my life if I am able.  _

_ Forgive me for not being a good daughter in honoring your request. I will do my best to serve our family in the Red Keep.  _

_ Your daughter, _

_ Celia _

She hoped that her father might understand and not force her. 

—

It was not too long after sending her reply that Celia received a letter from Cat. 

_ Dearest Celia, _

_ I’m so sorry.  _

~~_ Mother _ ~~

~~_ Mother suffered complications a few days after the birth and she _ ~~

_ Our mother suffered from complications a few days after our brother’s birth. We have sent her off in the Tully way.  _

_ I’m so sorry, Celia.  _

_ I’m so sorry.  _

_ Yours, _

_ Cat _

Ashara found Celia crying in her room and called for Jaime to help put Celia to bed. 

—

Celia was a ghost in the halls of the Red Keep, people giving her pitying looks as she passed them, but she paid them little mind. 

Her mother was gone. Her mother was gone and she had barely spent any time with her when they had all been at Harrenhal. Her mother’s uncle, Ser Oswell Whent had come to her, the first time that she could think of, and told her that he was sorry for her loss. 

Although the man seemed uncomfortable, she hugged him still and he held her in his arms gently. It reminded her of her Uncle Brynden, the way he held her gently, as though she were made of glass. It was her first real source of comfort. 

In bed, she had just wanted to disappear into her lover’s embrace and relished in the way he would touch her. She felt so alive when he touched her. She felt like she could breathe. As though she was coming up for air after being sunk below the waves of a river. 

She found solace in the library, finding books that her mother had once read to her. The library was her solace. It was her safe space until a mad dragon found its way in. 


	18. Arthur IX

Arthur stormed away from Rhaegar, not wanting to hear anything more the prince had to say. 

“Arthur—”

“What?” he snapped, turning to look at Ser Barristan. 

The older man looked surprised for a moment and then recovered quickly. “I need you to fetch the king from the library. One of the pyromancers wishes to see him.”

“Can’t you?” Arthur asked. He'd rather not have to deal with Targaryens for the rest of the day. 

“I have something else I need to do.”

Arthur sighed. “Fine.”

He went to the library and opened the door and froze. 

Celia was backed up against a bookshelf, her skirt being lifted. She looked at Arthur with wide fearful eyes and his stomach churned painfully. 

Arthur’s hand tightened on his sword. “Your grace,” he said harshly and the king glared at him. “The pyromancer wishes to speak to you about something.”

The king said something to Celia and he left the room quickly. King Aerys slammed the door behind him and Arthur was at Celia’s side before it was even closed. 

Celia buried her face in her hands and began to cry, sobs came from the back of her throat as she began to tremble. Arthur wrapped his arms around her and she held him to her as well, burying her face in his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he whispered gently. “You aren’t at fault. That wasn’t on you.”

“Kiss me,” she begged. “I can still taste him. I can still feel him. Please. Please.”

Arthur could never refuse her. He let her go and cupped Celia’s face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. He had meant it to remain chaste, to chase away the feeling of the mad dragon, but it did not stop there, not when her tongue entered his mouth and her hands brought his own to her thighs. 

“Celia…”

“Please,” she whispered. “I want to feel you. I don’t want this place tainted. Please.”

Arthur kissed her again and took it slow. He made sure to caress every inch of her body as she laid back upon the hard floor of the library. Arthur’s white cloak spread above them like a blanket, protecting her modesty from any who might enter, although he doubted that anyone would. 

He worked his armor partially aside so he could free his hardening cock and Celia sighed into his mouth when she felt him through her small cloth. She was already wet for him and Arthur took little time entering her. Celia moaned softly as he began to thrust into her gently, building to a steady, rolling rhythm that left her moaning and sighing in content. 

Arthur pulled back for a moment to watch her as he continued to pump into her. Her head was thrown back and her hands squeezed at his biceps, her mouth opened into a beautiful o as he knew he hit the right spot as she began to flutter around him. Celia’s mouth widened into a silent scream as she came, clenching around him and Arthur began to move more quickly, starting to pound into her for his own release. 

“Arthur,” she moaned. “Oh, Arthur.”

He dropped his head to her shoulder and groaned, whispering her name like a prayer. He choked on his worship as he came, filling her to the brim with his seed. Celia whimpered slightly when he pulled from her, but gasped when he began to drink from between her legs, cleaning her, tasting his seed, her release, and their mingled sweat against his tongue. She fisted at his hair, but he refused to stop until he brought her to another release, until she was boneless. 

—

Arthur carries Celia back to her room. She fell asleep in his arms on the way there and it filled him with pride that she felt so safe there. 

Although servants glanced at them as he made their way down the hall, none said anything and quickly averted their gaze. 

Arthur tucked his lover into bed and sat in a chair next to her bed, watching over her as she slept. 

—

Arthur awoke and found a blanket had been put over him and a small note was on his lap. 

_ Needed to go be with Elia. I didn’t want to wake you. I thought you might need the sleep. I suppose I have been keeping you awake too often, even if it is only in your dreams and with your hand.  _

_ Yours, _

_ C _

Arthur smiled. Thinking of…

It took him an extra five minutes to adjust himself after getting a hold of his wanting cock, but he left a note for Celia in return. 

_ Nothing compares to you.  _

_ Always, _

_ A _

—

“You have to see reason,” Prince Rhaegar said. 

“ _ You  _ have to see reason,” Arthur argued. “It’s insane. It’s mad! It would be one thing if you were not married or you and Princess Elia had been married for years and not provided you with an heir, but that is not what’s going on. You  _ are  _ married and you  _ do _ have an heir.”

“I need a third child!”

“Perhaps you can wait a year or two and you can try again with the princess!” Arthur shouted in return. “The princess’ health has never been the best but having two children so close together did her no favors. Wait for her to heal a bit and perhaps you may get a third child from her. Perhaps not. But it shouldn’t matter. If you do this you’ll throw the realm into chaos!”

“I need you to be with me,” Rhaegar said. “Come with me and you’ll see that everything will turn out just fine.”

“My place is here,” Arthur stated sternly. 

“Your whore is here,” Rhaegar appeared to correct. “Do not think that your affair with Lord Tully’s daughter has gone unnoticed. You silly the vows of the Kingsguard and yet you judge me for wanting to do what Aegon the Conqueror did.”

“Celia is not a whore,” Arthur seethed, not caring about anything else that the prince said. “She is betrothed to no one and I am hers and she is mine. If you dare condemn me for loving a woman free of betrothment because of my vows then I am allowed to condemn you. You swore before the whole Seven Kingdoms to be loyal to Princess Elia and now you tell me you haven’t been. I will hear no more of this and I will not help you.”

Arthur stormed away and went to his rooms. He wrote a quick letter to Brandon Stark and went to deliver it himself to a raven to deliver. The knight knew the man would be at Riverrun before they would bring Lady Stark to the Stormlands. He sent the Raven off, hoping it would reach its destination. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to come to a head soon!


	19. Celia X

It was announced that Prince Rhaegar was going to Dragonstone with a few of the Kingsguard. Celia thought little of it, choosing to ignore nearly everything to do with the prince, finding him worth little of her attention. 

He was a horrible husband and father in her book, even a horrible son to his mother. And a horrible brother to Prince Viserys, Celia could not even think of one moment of the crown prince even acknowledging his brother’s presence. 

It was best, Celia decided, to ignore him. 

—

They had to hurry. 

Arthur had Celia bent over a desk in a random solar, her skirt bunched you around her hips and her knuckles white against the edge. His pants were around his ankles as he thrust into her from behind, his hands on her hips, pounding into her as though she were his only relief. 

“Gods, Celia,” Arthur groaned as the slap of their skin resounded about the empty room. She knew she would have bruises the next day. But she didn’t care. “You’re so tight.” He bent over so his lips were against her ear. “Is this for me? All for me?”

“Yes,” Celia gasped at a particularly hard thrust. “All for you! All—”

“Say you’re mine,” he growled. “Please, Celia. Say you’re mine and only mine!”

“Yours!” Celia cried as she neared her release. “Yours!”

She gave a silent scream as he touched her in just the right place in time with another thrust and she fell apart, babbling his name and affirmation as he continued to thrust into her wildly until he spilled into her. 

Arthur buried his face in her back and she could feel his hot breath against her back. “Are you okay?” he asked, pulling out of her and helping her turn onto her back. “Did I hurt you?”

Celia looked up at him, feeling utterly boneless. She sat up and wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer. She cupped his cheek in her hand and kissed him gently. “I want to ride you next time,” she whispered. “Ride you hard until you're begging me to let you come.”

She saw his cheeks turn red, but he kissed her again and after a few moments, she could feel him grow hard again, but she had to return to her duties and so did he. 

—

It was always a hurried stolen moment between them. Even at night. 

Celia wanted to bask in the feeling of resting against Arthur’s chest. She wanted to wake up to his arms around her. She wanted to feel his beard tickle her brow as he kissed her good morning. 

She wanted so much that was always denied her. 

“Stay,” she whispered, holding onto his arm as he began to slip from her bed. 

“You know I can’t,” he replied, his voice breaking. 

“You can,” she pleaded. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

He leaned forward and kissed her brow. “I do. I could not live with myself if anyone thought badly of you. I can’t do that to you.”

Arthur pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, before slipping from her bed and dressing. He looked at her one last time before he closed the door. Tears began to catch upon her lashes until they slid down her cheeks. Celia buries her face in her hands and let out a pained sob. 

—

It was barely a week later that news began to flood the Red Keep that the crown prince had kidnapped Lady Lyanna Stark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After Friday, I’m taking one week off from writing because my supervisor scheduled me for too many hours next week and I’m going to be utterly exhausted. I might change up the writing schedule for my fics since I’ve been under too much stress lately (I work at a grocery store). Thank you for understanding!


	20. Arthur X

“Did you know?” Celia demanded as she stormed into the Kingsguard chambers. 

“Seven Hells!” The only other person in the room was Jaime and he fell over on the other side of his bed, scrambling as he had been getting dressed and had no trousers on. 

Celia ignored him. “Did you know?”

Arthur knew what she was asking and shame bubbled in his belly. “Yes.”

He wanted to say more, but she turned and stormed from the room in anger. 

—

It was Ashara that came to get him next, dragging him before Elia and kicking him in the shin to kneel. He had planned to do that anyway, but guessed that his sister wished to exert some of her boundless anger in that single kick. 

Elia’s face was a calm mask. “Do you know where my husband is?”

Arthur bowed his head, forgive me, your grace,” he said. “I don’t. I wasn’t told of this plan at all.”

“But you were aware of  _ a  _ plan?” Celia asked. 

Arthur glanced at his lover and found her expression broken and distrustful. He hated that he was the one to give her such a look. “I was aware that Prince Rhaegar had taken an interest in Lady Lyanna Stark, but I was unaware of how far he would go for such a brief meeting.” He paused. “I sent a letter to Lord Brandon Stark in hopes for him to set things straight, but I’m unsure if the letter reached him.”

“You should have sent it to Lord Rickard Stark or my father as well,” Celia said. “You best hope that nothing comes of this.”

Princess Elia sighed. “Go,” she said. “I need time to think.”

—

A week had passed and there was no news of Rhaegar or Lady Lyanna  _ anywhere _ . It was as though they had vanished completely. Ashara and Celia weren’t talking to him either, avoiding him as much as he wished to see them. Especially Celia. He longed to hold his lover and comfort her or find comfort in her as well, however, his bed and body remained cold and he could not figure a way to reconcile his nonaction with Rhaegar to her. 

By the end of the week, Lord Brandon Stark came to King’s Landing, demanding Prince Rhaegar to come out and die. He and his companions were thrown into the dungeons and the glint in the king’s eye made Arthur feel uneasy. 

—

Arthur flinched at the sound of Rickard Stark’s screams. The Stark patriarch and Warden of the North was not allowed a dignified death. His screams echoed across the throne room and none could watch as the world seemed to resound in the single scream and the strangled pleading that came from Brandon Stark. 

It felt like seconds. It felt like hours. 

But, by the end of it, the stench of burning flesh had etched itself into Arthur’s nose and the Starks’ screams still rang inside his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m super sorry this is the last chapter before my week break, I worked 10 hours yesterday and am utterly exhausted. I’m bruised all over. 
> 
> I’ll take prompts throughout the week to give a bit of entertainment.


	21. Celia XI

Celia fled, slipping from her duty and the room as her breath knotted in her throat and her stomach churned. She ran until she was on her knees, heaving nothing but biled air as tears burned down her cheeks.

She could still smell the burning flesh and the screams echoed across her head like a bell. Her heart beat along like a war drum as she began to sob. 

She felt a hand on her back and knew it was Ashara, her being the only other person who could slip out as easily as Celia had. 

Her friend rubbed a soothing circle in her back, but it did not help. It was also though Celia couldn’t breathe. 

“Shhh,” Ashara hushed gently. “You need to breathe, Celia.”

She shook her head fiercely. She couldn’t. She was choking. She couldn’t do it. 

“Celia, please, you need to breathe.” Ashara put her hand on Celia’s chest, taking her other hand and placing one of Celia’s on her own. “Can you do it with me?” She took a deep breath. “In.” Then she exhaled. “Out.”

It took a few tries, but Celia was able to breathe again eventually. It was then that her sobs grew more pronounced, more gasping. 

Ashara wrapped her arms around Celia and held her tenderly in her arms as Cat used to do whenever Celia had a nightmare. She heard the sound of hesitant steps toward them. 

“Not now, Arthur,” Ashara said. “Not now.”

—

Celia shut herself up in her rooms. No one questioned it. 

Unlike everyone else in the Keep, Celia has a closer connection to the Starks than any of the others did. Cat… poor Cat...

—

“Celia.”

She froze at his voice, at the voice of the man she had given her body to countless times, the man who owned her heart. She looked at Arthur and found him to look as exhausted and weary as she felt. 

It was one of the few times she left her rooms, to head to the kitchens to eat. 

“Celia,” Arthur stepped closer to her and it was then that she could move and she stepped away. He paused for a moment and did not move, but continued to speak. “Please, can we talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Celia said harshly. 

“Please.”

“My sister is a widow before she can even be a wife and you expect us to speak?”

“Celia, I tried to warn—”

“You could have spoken to the king, you could have spoken to that Master of Whispers. You could have spoken to my father, you could have done so much more, but you didn’t. Now, two men are dead.”

“Celia, you have nothing to say to me that will absolve you of your sins.”

He flinched. “I know,” Arthur said gently. “I know, believe me I do. Nothing I say will change that I did not do more when I could. Nothing I do will change that. I just…” He walked towards her and Celia let him. He pressed his brow to hers. “I love you,” he whispered. “It is all I can tell you. I love you.”

Celia wanted to say it back, wanted to go back to how it was before, but it hurt. It hurt so much. He had lied to her, lied to all of them. She turned from him and returned to her rooms. She was resolved to not go back, to break the habit. She was resolved to do so. 

—

Her resolve was so easily broken.

She needed him like she needed air. Needed to feel something other than this overwhelming sense of loss and grief. She knew it was stupid. Knew it was foolish, but she did it anyway. 

When she knocked on the door to the Kingsguard quarters, it was Jaime that opened the door. He looked her over and sighed. “I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

Celia blushed. “My room—”

“I have a decent idea about what you two have done there, so no thanks,” Jaime said with another sigh. “I’ll sleep in the nursery.”

“I’m sorry to kick you out.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not enough to take him to your own rooms, but whatever.” He patted her shoulder. “Don’t live in regret. There’s too many bad things going on right now for that.”

Celia’s blush grew deeper as she entered the room to find Arthur sitting on his bed, looking totally wrecked. She walked to him, lifting her shift ever so slightly so she could straddle his hips. 

“I love you too,” she whispered softly. 

Arthur closed his eyes and she cupped his jaw in her hands. A tear slid down his cheek and Celia kissed it away and they came together until they reached oblivion and drifted together into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was way shorter than I meant it to be. I had planned on doing a long sex scene, like my notes for the last scene was literally “Celia and Arthur have slow, passionate sex,” but this felt more right with me. Both are dealing with grief and guilt and I felt like, in a way, this moment could be private and between them. Sorry to disappoint, but I feel like they needed this moment for themselves.
> 
> The Celiaverse contest is now open! Find the rules [HERE](https://fromtheboundlesssea.tumblr.com/post/615380999853981696/i-have-finally-come-out-with-the-rules-for-the) ! We have a couple entries already! 
> 
> I also have a new posting schedule [HERE](https://fromtheboundlesssea.tumblr.com/post/615754777656197120/okay-new-release-schedule-for-the)


	22. Arthur XI

Arthur awoke sore and in an empty bed. He sat up slowly, groaning. He could still feel the heat of Celia’s touches and the taste of her lips against his tongue. He sighed, glancing at the place she had left empty before running his fingers through his hair. 

They shouldn’t have slept together last night. She had been so isolated recently, barely taking any meals and she was still mourning the loss of her mother. 

“I am never doing that again,” he heard Jaime say. He glanced up at the slightly younger knight. The Lannister boy glared at him. “You want sex, you do it in her chambers. I am not sleeping on the floor of the nursery again.”

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair once more. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” Jaime nodded. “The King is calling us all to the throne room. News of the rebellion is spreading.”

Arthur nodded as well and began to dress himself in his kingsguard uniform. He prayed that Celia stayed in bed that day. The rebellion was being fought by her family. She needn’t hear the horrid words the king would not doubt say about them. 

—

The battles were in the Vale and the Stormlands. Some fought for the crown, but plenty others fought for their liege lord. 

It was one thing for the king to take the lives of one of his wardens and that warden’s heir, no matter how badly it looked, it was another to call for the head of two other innocent men for nothing more than wounded pride. Someone should have stood against King Aerys long ago. 

Once upon a time, Arthur thought perhaps it might be Rhaegar. He had hoped that the Silver Prince would rise against his father and bring the realm under his wing and have true peace that was not caused by fear. 

However, he should have seen the cracks. He should have known that Rhaegar was just as selfish as his father. 

He wondered, then, if Lyanna had actually gone willingly or if her correspondence with the prince had only been to be polite. The prince was her betrothed’s cousin. He was the crown prince. To ignore his correspondence would not be treated kindly. She could say no to him as much as Celia had been able to say no to the king. 

A shudder when down Arthur’s spine. He did not even want to imagine what would have happened had he not gotten there in time. 

—

“You do not deserve your lands!” the king shouted. “You do not deserve your title! No longer will you be known as my Hand for you have conspired against me in this rebellion.”

“Never, your grace,” Lord Owen said, his eyes wide. 

“Lord Connington,” the king roared.

The named man stepped forward and bowed. “Yes, your grace?”

“As my new Hand, seek out these rebels and squash their muteney.”

Arthur’s lips formed a straight line. Jon Connington was a good warrior, but the rebellion had shown more wit than any had imagined and had shown more strength than previously realized. 

Jon Connington bowed. “As you wish, your grace.”

—

“The Princess is in need of your services, Ser Arthur,” Celia said, her eyes downcast. 

She hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. 

Arthur bid his  _ good days _ to the lords he was speaking with and followed Celia as she took him to wherever the princess was. 

However, she led him down a quiet hallway where very few people frequent. 

“Celia?”

She stopped and then turned to him and he realized her eyes were red rimmed and her lip was trembling and she looked very very pale. 

He stepped towards her and cupped her face in his hands. 

“Celia, what’s wrong?”

She looked up at him and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I might be pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUUUUUN!


	23. Celia XII

“I might be pregnant,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. 

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Are… are you certain?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t had my moon blood in two months and I didn’t notice at first, but I am always so regular… I thought it was stress, but I can’t keep anything down. I can’t…”

She broke down and Arthur pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her and she wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. 

His hand began to rub smoothing circles into her back as she continued to cry. Arthur was whispering sweet everythings into her hair as he held her close, peppering sweet kisses to her head between his words. 

“What do you want me to do?” he asked softly. “Tell me what you want me to do. Do you want me to find you moon tea? Do you want me to fetch the maester?”

Celia shook her head. “I don’t know what moon tea will do to my body and the king has forbidden it on pain of death because of the queen.”

Arthur continued to hold her, pressing more kisses to her hair as she spoke. 

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll figure it out,” he promised. “I’ll figure out a way to get you, Ashara, Princess Elia, and the children out. I promise.”

Celia pressed her face more firmly into his chest and nodded. 

—

Celia went to Elia next. She knew she needed to tell her friend the possibility that she was pregnant. She tried to be calm and detached as she told Elia everything, her affair with Arthur and the possible pregnancy. However, she fidgeted and knew that her lip trembled with every word that came from her mouth. 

Elia took a deep breath as she seemed to process everything. “Celia,” she said. “I’m honored that you’ve told me and I will do everything I can to help you. However, you need to tell Ashara as well.”

Celia blushed. She was so very frightened about how Ashara would react. “I don’t want her to be mad.”

Elia chuckled and wiped a stray tear from Celia’s cheek. “She won’t be mad at you. She’ll be mad at Arthur. Don’t worry.”

Celia nodded and Elia called for their other friend. The Dornish princess held Celia’s hand and rubbed the back of it with her thumb. 

“What’s going on?” Ashara asked, coming in. “Did something happen?”

“I might be pregnant,” Celia said quietly, but quickly, wanting to get it all out. 

Ashara stood there frozen for a moment. “Is it my brothers?”

Celia nodded. 

“Did he do something stupid?” She asked, sitting on the other side of Celia. “Do I need to kill him? I already plan on killing Rhaegar. Adding just one more person to my list isn’t much. We can all go to Dorne and I’ll help you two raise those babies by ourselves.”

“You…” Celia chewed on her bottom lip. “You aren’t mad?”

“I’m going to be an aunt. Of course I’m not blood mad. Seven hells.”

Celia began to laugh and she didn’t realize how much she needed to do that until that moment. 

—

Arthur pressed his lips to Celia’s own in a chaste kiss. “Tell me what you want to do.”

“I need to confirm it first,” Celia said softly. “But I want to keep the baby if I am… pregnant.” He nodded. “What does that mean for you?”

Arthur blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

“You’re a member of the Kingsguard,” she said. “You’ve sworn vows. You—”

He pressed a firm kiss to her lips. “I broke those vows a long time ago,” he replied. “And I don’t regret it.”

Celia blushed. 

“I wish I had met you before I took my vows,” he said. “I wish I had known you before then I would pick you every time.”

Celia blushed. “So what shall we do?”

He kissed her again. “I’m going to get us all out of here. I promise.”

—

“What’s happening?” Celia asked as she watched servants and even some lords running towards the gates. 

“Prince Rhaegar has returned,” Jaime told her. 

Celia’s eyes widened. “And Lady Lyanna? Is she with him?”

He shook his head. “She’s still nowhere to be found.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite smuggler will be making an appearance next chapter!


	24. Arthur XII

“We are at war, Rhaegar,” Arthur tried to reason. “This isn’t just some interhouse issue that can be settled with words anymore. Your father killed a warden and his heir, the father and brother of the girl you kidnapped.”

“She went willingly—”

“Does it matter!?” Arthur shouted in the prince’s solar. “You have openly sided now with the man who killed her family and called for her other brother’s head. If she went with you willingly, do you truly think she will want anything to do with you if she knows the truth?”

Rhaegar stood, towering over Arthur, his violet gaze dark. “You forget yourself, Ser Arthur. I am your prince.”

“And as your friend it is my duty to tell you when you’re doing something stupid,” Arthur snapped. “People are dying Rhaegar. And you went off to who knows where and have decided only now that you will take part in the mess you’ve made.” He stepped closer to the prince. “Talk to your father, make him see reason.”

“The rebels are going against their king and prince. It is my duty to push them down and back to their place.”

“They are rebelling because you’ve broken any amount of trust that the crown has made with the people. It is worse than the Blackfyre Rebellions. This could be the end of everything.”

“I am doing this because it is my destiny.”

“But it is your duty to protect your people and your family. Talk to your father and allow Elia and the children to go to Dorne where it is safest. Let—”

“Elia and the children will stay here. They do not need to be in Dorne.”

“They need to be safe. Regardless of what you’ve done with Lyanna, Elia is your wife and Rhaenys and Aegon your children. It is your duty to put them first.”

The prince shook his head. “We are speaking in circles. Elia and the children are fine where they are. When it is all settled I will bring Lyanna and Visenya here. You don’t know what it's like to have children or the responsibilities that I do. I cannot think of them now. You’re dismissed.”

Arthur clenched his fist. He did understand. He truly did, he just thought that Rhaegar was wrong. 

—

“I confirmed it with a midwife,” Celia said softly. “I am with child.” There were tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not exactly what you wanted.”

“Shh,” he hushed, wrapping his arms around her and pressing kisses to her temple. “I want you and I want a life with you.” He put a hand on her belly. While it wasn’t round, there was a certain firmness to it that he hadn’t noticed before. “I want this child. I want a family with you. I want to take you to Dorne and raise our child in Starfall.”

Celia nuzzled her face into his neck. “I want that too.”

He was worried still. Worried about what might happen. He needed to get Celia, his sister, Elia and the children out of the Red Keep. The crown was losing the rebellion and none of them would be truly safe. He needed to protect them. 

“I trust you,” Celia whispered, her warm breath fanning across his skin. She looked up at him with her bright blue eyes. Gods, he prayed their child had her eyes. “You’ll protect us. I know it.”

He bent his head down and pressed his lips against hers. She was sweet to taste and Arthur had missed it. 

Celia began to walk them back until they were near her bed. She pulled away from his lips and looked up at him. “I want you,” she whispered softly. “I’ve missed you.”

They were careful, possibly more careful than they needed to be, but Arthur had no idea how careful they needed to be with the baby. Even so, Arthur peeled his lover’s clothes from her body, letting the fabric whisper against her skin as he slowly undressed himself as well. She was beautiful. Her skin was as white as the stones at Starfall and her hair as red as molten fire, her eyes like a clear sky. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered as he lines himself up to her. Gods she was already wet for him. 

“You do,” Celia sighed as he slipped into her, sheathing himself to the hilt in her warmth. She rolled her hips and she took in a sharp breath. “You do.”

Arthur was careful not to crush her, resting on his forearms above her as he began to thrust in, a steady beat with her moans and gasps as the accompaniment. Arthur rested his head on her shoulder as he kept his pace. “Beautiful,” he grunted. “So beautiful.”

“Arthur.” 

It took everything in him to not slam his hips against hers after she said his name in that breathy tone that normally made him go wild. He took her breast in his mouth and began to suck. She cried out and dug her nails into his back as he felt her reach her peak, clenching around him as she moaned his name. He followed soon after, spending inside her until he felt all his strength leave him. 

Arthur rolled onto his back and pulled Celia to his side. “I’ll protect you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I promise.”

—

Information was the best way to get a smuggler’s help. The best way to get them to help you. Information, especially during a rebellion was worth more than gold. But he needed something that would get the smuggler enough clout to get a ship from the Baratheon fleet. 

“I have thought about what you said,” Arthur lied. “I swore a vow to you and the crown. I wish to protect the future queen and  _ Visenya _ .” Gods, he’d left the girl with child, if his guess was correct. 

Rhaegar grinned. “I am glad you’ve finally seen reason. I shall be heading towards the Trident in a few days, after that, I need you to go to the Tower of Joy.”

“Tower of Joy?”

“It is a round tower in the northern edge of the Red Mountains of Dorne.”

Arthur’s stomach twisted. Rhaegar was about to lead a Dornish army who are only fighting because the king held Rhaegar’s Dornish wife hostage and the prince had taken his mistress to birth his bastard in Dorne. Arthur wanted to scream. 

“I shall go as soon as I am able to better Jaime’s understanding of his responsibilities.”

Rhaegar nodded. “I’ll see you again once we win this war.”

Arthur bowed and left quickly trying to keep his expression cool. 

—

Arthur made his way to the pub at the edge of Flea Bottom. 

“Are you Davos Seaworth?” he asked, sitting down across from a bearded man in simple clothes. 

“I might be. You the Dornish knight?”

Arthur nodded. “I need you to get a message to Eddard Stark.”

“And that message would be?” 

“His sister is in a tower in the northern parts of the Red Mountains in Dorne. She’s being guarded by some of the Kingsguard.”

“You telling me that the prince smuggled his mistress to the homeland of his wife?”

Arthur nodded. “I need you to get that information to him and tell him that the person who gave him this information will call in a favor when the time comes.” He had to ensure that his child would not be treated as bastards were in the rest of Westeros.

“Aye, and is that all?”

“When you can, get your ship and return King’s Landing and I need you to snuggle some people to Sunspear.”

“The princess and her children. Dorne fights for the king because he has them. Tell Robert Baratheon that it’s the surest way to have Dorne turn on the crown.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll send you a notice for when I will arrive.” 

Arthur nodded. “Thank you.”

He hoped it would be enough. 


	25. Celia XIII

Before long, Celia began to show. 

It seemed like one day her belly was still flat but firm and then the next it was obviously rounding. She hid it in full skirts for as long as she could, but whispers began to spread across the keep of her swelling belly. 

She could see the judgment in the eyes of the ladies and lords of court. While the women looked at her with contempt along with a few of the men, man looked at her in interest, as though she was a new source of entertainment that may amuse them in this time of war. 

Then her pregnancy grew more pronounced and she could hide it no longer. 

Word reached the Red Keep that the Riverlands were being ravaged by war, that the places she had grown up in were being torn apart and defiled in horrible ways. She was no fool, she knew what happened in war. She could recall the haunted looks of her uncle and father from previous battles. 

Her father and uncle were no doubt fighting now. Her sisters were stuck in Riverrun with their baby brother. Celia had heard a rumor that both had gotten married, but she could only understand Cat perhaps getting married to Eddard Stark, but surely they would wait until the end of the war. Or, perhaps not. She had been so excited to marry Brandon. And now…

She found herself crying most of the day now. Elia said it was because of the pregnancy, but it felt as though Celia’s world was crumbling apart. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—blame the baby for that.

—

Once Celia started to show, Arthur had stopped caring about pretense and had begun to sleep in her room, holding her to his chest as she cried most nights. 

Occasionally, Celia would wake in a panic, gasping for breath as she dreamed of the Mad King dragging her out by the hair to be burned while Arthur was strangled, just as Brandon Stark had been. Or she dreamed of her baby being ripped from her arms by others who would seek to use it as a pawn. 

Every time she awoke from such dreams, Arthur would sit up and cradle her in his arms as much as he could and kiss her gently, trying to calm her and ease her worries. However, Celia could feel him trembling too, the way he held her more tightly, the way his hand would constantly rest protectively over her belly, the way he slept with a dagger and his sword within reach. The way he always made sure to put himself between her and the door at all times. 

He was frightened too. 

Celia held onto her lover tightly and prayed that they would come out of this together and that they survive whatever storm it was they would have to weather as the rebellion drew closer and closer to King’s Landing. 

—

Celia just wanted to forget, just wanted to forget it all. She just wanted to disappear inside her head as Arthur thrust into her carefully, pushing Celia higher and higher, away from all the pain and the tears and the fear of what was to come. 

The king had burned another noble, an innocent noble that had done nothing but tried to speak up for justice. Celia could still smell the burning flesh and hear his screams. 

She pressed her nose against Arthur’s neck, breathing in the smell of live steel and spice. The smell of his sweat and musk. She closed her eyes and focused on his grunts and groans. Focused on the way he felt as he thrust into her, the ripple of his muscles against her fingers. 

She just wanted to, what was it Jaime called it, going away inside. She just wanted to disappear into her head, at the very least this room when’re she and Arthur could sink into each other and pretend that everything was alright. She could pretend that they could be truly excited for the babe, that everything was going to be fine, that they were going to be safe. 

As Arthur drove her into sweet oblivion, she held onto him and cried out for him and for the gods to have mercy. She cried because there was nothing else she could do but hold onto her loved like he was the only rock in which she could find purchase in the coming storm. 

—

At first Celia didn’t believe it. 

First, it was a whisper, then a shout. 

“The prince is dead!” The people were shouting it, crying it. “The prince is dead!”

Celia rushes to where Arthur was. She knew that her lover and the prince had not parted on the best of terms and their relationship had been strained in recent years, but that couldn’t possibly discount the entirety of their relationship. 

“The prince is dead!”

Celia found him looking out of one of the walkways, towards the Trident, where the prince had fallen in battle.

“The prince is dead!”

He did not look sad or upset. Instead, it was worse. He looked exhausted. Utterly exhausted. 

Celia held him in her arms and he held her gently, one hand on her growing belly as though it were the only thing anchoring him to this world that had gone insane. 

“The prince is dead!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sack is coming soon, what shall our lovers do?
> 
> I wanted this chapter to be a bit longer, but I have to get out of the house early today because someone’s coming to inspect it.


	26. Arthur XIII

Arthur did not know what to feel at the news of Rhaegar’s death. 

The prince had been one of Arthur’s greatest and longest friends, but in recent years, even in the past few months… Arthur did not know the man he so often stood beside. He had once thought that Rhaegar was better than King Aerys. He thought his friend would be the change that Westeros needed, however, he was only more of the same. 

The debacle with Lyanna, the whole thing with Harrenhal… all of it proved that the man he thought Rhaegar had been had never existed. It was just an illusion. 

But now Rhaegar was dead and Arthur felt nothing. It almost felt less than nothing, but he knew there was a sense of loss, but not for him. Rhaenys would have no memories of her father and neither would Aegon. All they would have were stories and Arthur wasn’t sure if he would have any to tell them. 

But, with Rhaegar gone, the rebellion was practically over. There was nothing more that could truly be done and the rebels would be coming. Celia was the only one amongst them with any connection to the rebels, but would they care once they see she carried a babe in her belly.

Arthur did not wish to think on it. If he had his way, they would be fine soon, fine and safe. 

He needed to focus on Elia and the children. That’s who and what he needed to focus on. 

—

“Are you and the children not being sent away?” Arthur asked, incredulous. “You are to remain  _ here _ ?”

Elia strokes Rhaenys’ curls and kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “I had hoped that perhaps he would do so, but the Dornishman will not fight unless they are protecting me and the children.” She sighed. “I am a hostage so our people will still fight for his cause.”

“But he has sent Queen Rhaella away and Prince Viserys. Surely he would send you and his son’s heir.”

“He has named Viserys his new heir,” Ashara said darkly. “I suppose he’s decided that Rhaegar was never his perfect prince.”

“The queen is pregnant too,” Celia said, rubbing her swollen belly. “She was hiding it with her skirts but she’s almost as far along as I am.”

“It is not safe here,” Arthur said. “Surely the king knows that.”

Elia closed her eyes and hugged her daughter gently. “All we can do is pray and wait to see if anyone shall come and get us,” she said. “That’s all we can do.”

—

Arthur sat Jaime down once he got a raven from Davos. He had made it appear like it was from Prince Lewyn Martell as a farewell to Elia, but it was from the smuggler. He would give as a sign and Arthur would know when to take the women and children to Dorne. But to do that, he needed Jaime’s help. 

“A smuggler is going to take them to Dorne?” Jaime asked. 

Arthur nodded. “To Sunspear.”

“Celia’s too far along though, traveling by sea will be horrible.”

The Dornish knight grimaced. He knew it full well. But it was the only way. “Come with us,” he said instead. “The city will fall and Aerys is already losing his grip on what little sanity he had left since Rhaegar died. We need to protect the girls.”

Jaime shook his head. “I’ll help you get them out, but I need to stay here. Someone has to stay here.”

“Jaime—”

“It’s obvious to everyone that the rebels will win. The Ironborn have already made their allegiances clear and I know my father will use his previous friendship with the king to make a show of siding with the rebellion.” Jaime looked down at his clenched fists. “Someone needs to stay behind and make sure my father isn’t allowed in the city, not for some petty revenge upon people who do not deserve it. Someone has to stay behind and make sure the pyromancers aren’t allowed to carry out their will. As kingsguard, we were not allowed to stop our king from raping the queen, no we were complacent and the gods will judge us for it when the Stranger comes for us.” Jaime looked up to Arthur in determination. “I will not allow my father to rape this city with his men and I will not let the king rape this city with fire. I will stay behind. My duty is to the people and someone needs to stay behind.” He put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and squeezed. “You need to be with Celia and you need to be there when your child is born. Your duty is to them. My path is here.”

“You're a good man, Jaime, far better than me.”

Jaime smiled slightly. “You’re the one that trained me. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do, be better than those who come before?”

Arthur chuckled. “Alright, alright. Let’s go do our rounds.”

—

Arthur kisses the shell of Celia’s ear as she slept peacefully in his arms. Her back was snuggled against his chest and his cock twitched slightly as he pulled her just a bit closer. His hand was over her stomach and he could feel a slight beat against his hand. 

Celia had said she could feel the babe flutter a months ago, but Arthur had only been able to begin feeling the kicks now. Soon, they would be safe and Arthur would be able to breath again. Soon. 

With his back to the door, Jaime looked out the window just over Celia’s shoulder and waited for the signal. Forever waiting. 

Freedom would come soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the chapters have been short recently. I’m moving on the fifth so things have been a little hectic as I try to pack my room and help my family pack as well.


	27. Celia XIV

They played along the beach, the waves washing over the sand like deep blue silk whispering against the pale ground it slipped from. They skirted around the water shrieking happily. A girl with dark hair and blue eyes. A boy with red hair struggled to keep up with his sister on his chubby legs that were begging for Celia to pinch them.

She sat upon the sand a little further up, her feet against the warmth and buried slightly beneath the finery. 

There was such an overwhelming sense of peace that Celia could not properly explain. It was as though everything was right with the world and and there could and would never be wrong. It was as though nothing bad would happen, as though the gods had finally had mercy on them all and given them peace. How long had it been since she felt such serenity? Surely it had been when she was a girl in Riverrun, before she had even set foot within the Red Keep and learned of its horrors.

They would never learn of them, the children—her children—who played along the beaches near Starfall. They would never know the horrors of that place of the keep stained as dark as its name. They were innocents and Celia planned on protecting that for as long as she possibly could. 

Everything was so warm and welcoming in Dorne. It was just as Arthur had described it on the nights he had held her in his arms and pressed kisses to her brow and to her nose and mouth. On the nights he left her breathless as he rested in the cradle of her thighs and his hot breath fanned against her skin. This was the life they had always dreamed of and the gods had finally granted them mercy. 

She watched as Arthur ran out to join the children, laughing and looking as young as he truly was, without the stress or chaos of the Red Keep to worry him. Then, Ashara was there, picking up the girl and twirling her around in her arms. The child squealed, giggling and smiling as Ashara let the waves whip gently at her feet. There was Elia, then, helped the boy, holding his hand as he toddled along. There there were Rhaenys and Aegon, older than they should be but there, running about and screaming as they played along the shoreline. Then she saw her sisters, the brother she had yet to meet. Children she did not yet know. Ser Jaime raced along with the children. Everything was perfect. Everyone was safe. 

Arthur looked up at her and smiled. Celia’s heart clinched slightly and she smiled too. 

She was ho—

—

“Celia.” 

She groaned softly and curled around her belly as she tried to drift off back into her dream, her body feeling like lead as she did so. Her joints were sore and heavy and she was so very hot, having tossed all the covers away from her body at some point in the middle of the night. 

“Celia.”

She groaned again before opening her eyes slowly. She wiggled slightly, expecting to find Arthur behind her like she always did, but instead found the bed empty. Celia pushed herself up slowly, moaning slightly at the heaviness of her muscles. She looked and saw that Arthur was near her head already off the bed. 

“Arthur?” He was already dressed and Celia realized that he had packed a bag of clothes for her. “What is it?”

“We need to leave,” he told her softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “There’s no time for you to change, but you can change on the boat.”

“The boat?”

He pressed a kiss to her brow. “We’re getting out of here, Celia.”

Her eyes widened and she was suddenly awake. She turned and let her legs slide off the bed. “What?”

“We’re getting out of the Red Keep and going to Sunspear. Ashara, Princess Elia, and the children are coming as well. We need to go. Jaime is getting the others.”

The babe kicked wildly, as though they knew that something was changing and Celia winced ever so slightly. 

“We need to go.”

Arthur helped her up, putting his arm around her as he gave her the pack of clothes to carry, his dominant hand free to pull his sword if he needed to. They left Celia’s room in the darkness of a half moon and she shuddered as the cool air began to swim around them through the empty halls. 

“Arthur,” Ashara said, holding Rhaenys in her arms as Jaime stood beside her and Elia, who held Aegon. “What is going on?”

“I’ve commissioned a rebel smuggler to get you all to Sunspear,” Arthur said. “We need to move now. I doubt he can stay in the docks for long without catching much attention.”

“We need to move,” Jaime said. “Now.”

—

They were just outside the keep before they were seen by a soldier. The boy could not have been much younger than Celia. He might have just been newly knighted or not even a knight at all. Celia did not know. 

“Don’t be foolish,” Arthur said, standing between them and this man child they did not know. “Just let us pass. You didn’t see us.”

The boy pulled out his sword, shaking. “The–the princess and the children are to be in their room,” he said. “They are to st–stay here so Dorne will protect the city.”

Arthur motioned for Jaime to move to protect Celia and the others as he kept his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword. “Rhaegar led many good Dornishmen to their deaths. They will not make it in time before the rebels or any who wish to garner their trust or debt might come. Now,” he pulled how his sword, his house’s ancestral sword, Dawn, glistening in the moonlight. “Let use pass.”

“I swore a vow to the king,” the boy said, his hands becoming still as he seemed to find some courage. 

“As have I,” Arthur said. “Greater vows than you. But the king I serve does not deserve them, but when he allows innocent people to die and breaks all fealty.”

“Wh–what do you know of vows!” the boy shouted and Celia could see Jaime tense and glance around them. The boy aimed his sword, leering it slightly so it pointed at Celia’s stomach and she felt ice spread through her veins. “You’ve fathered a bastard.”

Arthur crossed his sword with the boys. “Do not point your sword at her,” he growled, dark and dangerous in a way that Celia had never heard before. “Let us pass and I will let you live. You have a family boy?”

“A mother and father,” he replied. 

“Then, for their sake, I suggest you let us pass.”

“HE—” the boy began to shout before Arthur lunged forward, covering the boy's mouth as he plunged his sword into his stomach. 

Celia covered her mouth in horror as she saw the sword be yanked back, blood upon steel. It was then that Celia realized she had never seen Arthur kill before, never seen the same hands that had brought her such comfort and pleasure take a life without a second thought. Arthur sheathed his sword and began to drag the body out of sight behind a bush. 

He looked back at them and Celia could see when he noticed her reaction, his eyes growing soft in regret that she had to see such a thing. He came to her, not touching her with his hands and pressed a kiss to her hair. “We need to go.”

—

They were met at the docks by a small ship which could be easily missed by the grander ones around it. An older man with dark hair and a beard stood waiting for them wearing simple clothes that didn’t denote any house allegiances. 

“I have already sent word to Prince Doran,” the man said when he saw Arthur. “He knows to wait for us and will send Dornish ships to intercept us once we reach their waters.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said. He glanced at the others. “This is Davos Seaworth and he’ll be taking you.”

Celia had her arms wrapped around one of his own. She was so very frightened and she felt sick and woozy and she just wanted to sit down. 

Davos motioned for some of his men to come and help the women on board and to help settle the children, but Celia remained in her spot, tightening her hold on Arthur’s arm. Something felt wrong. Something didn’t feel right. 

Jaime was standing back. She looked at him and he smiled slowly. “I’m staying behind,” he told her. “Someone needs to.”

Arthur stiffened under Celia’s grasp. “Celia,” he said gently and she looked up at him and knew the look in his eyes. “Love.”

“No,” she said, her heart stuttering in her chest. “You cannot leave me. You cannot stay here, you have to come with me, with us. We need you with us. Arthur, you can’t—”

Arthur cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips firmly against her own. Even against its firmness, it was gentle. Oh so gentle. Like a goodbye. 

“I love you, Celia,” he breathed, pulling away slightly. He let one hand fall and cradled her stomach with it. His thumb rubbed against the swell as he pressed his brow to her. The babe kicked, as though to be as close to their father as possible. “I love you.”

“Arthur—”

He stepped back and Davos took hold of her, pulling her up the plank and onto the ship. 

“No!” She shouted. “Arthur, Arthur please!”

Tears began to slide down her cheeks. She fell to her knees sobbing as Ashara held her back once she was on the ship and the plank was drawn. Her friend whispered something, but Celia could not hear her over the sound of her own heart breaking. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😭


	28. Arthur XIV

Arthur watched as the ship departed. He could hear Celia’s sobs upon the rushing waves being sailed further and further away. He wanted to jump into the sea and climb aboard the ship and hold her and kiss her. He wanted to take the cowards way out and be with her. He wanted to be there when their child was born. He wanted to hold her and kiss her and love her. He wanted to be selfish. 

But then he would be no better than a Rhaegar. The Silver Prince has shirked his duties to be with a girl who had her whole life ahead of her. While he and Celia had made their own choices and their love never hurt anyone… Arthur has a duty to the people of King’s Landing. 

“Are you certain you wish to stay here?” Jaime asked. “This wasn’t part of the plan. You were supposed to go with them.”

“I’ll be honest, Jaime, I want to be on that ship. I do. However… I can’t leave you alone here. King’s Landing will be safer with the two of us protecting it. Besides, I have known Aerys for much longer. I would be a cruel knight to leave you alone to that, especially since I was the one who trained you.”

“But you have a child on the way,” Jaime tried to reason. 

Arthur’s stomach twisted. He could imagine it, a babe in his arms as Celia rested on a Dornish bed of silk. He could picture it. 

“If the rebels aren’t able to take the Red Keep, if Aerys does something drastic, the people will suffer for it and my child will grow up in a world where princes can do what they want without consequences and kings can kill without care. I am doing this for my child. It’s our duty as knights to make sure that the world is better than how we found it.” Arthur turned away from the port and towards the Red Keep. “We need to return,” he said. “Before anyone starts to notice the others missing.”

—

Arthur barely withheld his flinch as the Mad King’s hand smacked his face, he could feel the cool blood drip down to his chin as the throne room went quiet. The king had decided to walk down the steps of his ridiculous throne to demand Arthur tell him where Elia and the children were. In truth, the king could probably care less about Celia and Ashara, however, it was the principle of the thing. 

Celia could be used against the Riverlands and maybe even the Vale and the North due to their connection now. Ashara would keep him in check as well. It was no secret that Arthur was protective of his sister. However, Elia and the children kept the Dornish forces loyal. Without them, King Aerys has no real hope of winning. The best he could and should do was surrender. However, Arthur knew that the king wouldn’t, which was why he had stayed. 

“Where are they?!” the king screamed again, spit flying into Arthur’s face. 

Arthur kept himself composed. “I don’t know.”

It was the truth. He had no possible way of knowing where they were in their journey. He couldn’t say if they were still at sea or at some dock somewhere. 

“You have doomed us all!” the king raged. “Let it be known that Ser Arthur Dayne has doomed all of those who find shelter in the Red Keep.”

Arthur said nothing and simply bowed as the king climbed up the steps of his throne to look down at them all. 

—

Jaime has tried to warn the king, begged him to not allow the Lannister forces through the gates of the city. Arthur had tried to make the man see reason, but he listened to the pyromancer sad he listened to the fires. He heard their whispers and heeded their destructions. 

“Tywin Lannister has always been a friend of the king,” the snake-like man said. 

So, the red cloaks were allowed into the city, but they did not match. They poured in like oil into the pot and that was when the screams of the people began to call out for someone, anyone, to save them. Their cries grew loud enough to be heard even in the darkest corner of the Red Keep. 

“Let me speak to my father,” Jaime begged. “Perhaps I can make him see reason.”

“Lord Tywin might listen to his son, your grace,” Arthur tried to reason, keeping his voice level in a way that Jaime could not. The rebels were on the Lannister heels. They would be there soon as well. “Let Ser Jaime treat with his father, perhaps we might save the city yet.”

The Mad dragon sneered, his lip curling to reveal yellowing teeth. “I want him dead,” he shouted. “The traitor! I want his head, you'll bring me his head, or you'll burn with all the rest. All the traitors.”

The king picked at his scabbed hands letting himself bleed upon the Iron Throne as he began shouting at the pyromancer. 

“Burn them all!” His voice like a dragon’s shrieking. “Burn them all!” He turned, his eyes like violent flames. “But let you be the first to die, Sword of the Morning and Little Lion. Then I shall take that girl, that girl who so enjoyed my touches and caresses, whose face and cunt grew wet with her desire. Shall I rip your babe from her belly and put in my own?”

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Arthur roared. 

The king smirked and he turned to his pyromancer again shouting to burn them all. The only one left was Rossart. Arthur and Jaime had done their best to kill the others, but they could not find all of the catches of wildfire. 

“The traitors want my city,” the king said. “But I'll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat.”

Targaryens were buried in their fire and he had been letting his own blood spill upon the throne he so loved. Perhaps he wished to become a true dragon himself. 

“Let the lions burn too. They have chosen to die in this world instead of being reborn in my own. Let them all burn.”

Rossart turned and Arthur drew his sword and sliced the man’s stomachs open. The cut was so clean that the man stood there for a moment, blinking. Then, the blood began to soak into his clothes and he fell to his knees, the lights of his eyes growing dim as he collapsed to the floor, blood spilling upon the floor. 

“It’s over, Aerys,” Arthur said. “Give the city to the Lannisters. Give the city to the rebels and at least keep some of your dignity, perhaps you will live long enough then to see whatever babe you have forced upon the queen.”

Aerys drew his own sword. His fate was already decided, but at least he would die with some semblance of honor. “Do you think you have won?” the king roared. “No, I will come to you as the Black Dread and scourge those who have betrayed me. I will destroy it all. Burn them all!” he screamed. “Burn them—”

A sword pierced through the king’s chest and Arthur’s eyes widened. The sword was withdrawn and he saw Jaime standing behind the now fallen king, trembling with his sword in his hands. 

The Targaryen’s blood pooled upon the floor a dark black with swirls of red like a corpse already. 

“Jaime,” Arthur said gently. 

“I had to,” the boy’s voice shook, tears sliding down his cheeks in horror. Jaime has never known war or conflict, not as Arthur had. He continued to ramble. “He was going to burn the city. He was going to hurt my father. He was going to hurt Celia.”

Arthur dragged Jaime away from the king's body as the sound of marching steps drew closer. It would either be either the Lannister forced or the rebels. 

“Jaime,” Arthur said. “I need you to listen to me.”

“I killed the king,” Jaime’s voice was hushed and his skin grew pale. “I killed the king.”

“Jaime, listen to me,” he said. The world was quickly closing in on them. He had made choices long before Jaime had. He had made his choices and should have known that he should not have dragged Celia into them, should not have put her at risk. He was a fool to promise and believe in a happy ending. “Whoever comes through that door, you did not kill the king, I did. Do you understand?”

“But—”

“Jaime!” Arthur shouted, holding the younger knights head in his hands. “I’ve made my choices long ago and sat back and did nothing while Rhaegar and the king brought the realm to ruin.”

“But—”

“You have a better chance than I to speak to your father and the rebels to bargain for the princess and her children. They won’t trust a Dornishman, much less one who has served a mad king for so long. I have to be the one to take the fall.”

“But what about Celia?” Jaime asked, panicked. “What about the babe?”

“Take care of them,” he replied. 

“Arthur, I can’t—”

“You can,” he said, taking Jaime’s sword and sheathing it for him. “Your father might be more inclined to cooperate with the rebels if he thinks he can get his heir back.”

“Arthur—”

The doors opened and Arthur pushed Jaime down until he was on the floor and Arthur held Dawn tightly in his grip, blood dripping down his sword. 

It was not Lannister soldiers that came through, but Stark. Arthur laughed. He could not help it. If it had been any other lord, perhaps Arthur would be able to talk his way through it, explain and perhaps hope for some sort of forgiveness. But Stark had lost too much in this war and he sought justice and the final source of his rage, leaving only Arthur, an apparent oathbreaker and kingslayer, as his only outlet. 

—

Arthur sat in the black cells, the smell of salt and piss flooding his nostrils every time a door opened or a breeze rushed through. However,’he could care less. 

All he could think of was Celia and their babe. 

Arthur closed his eyes as tears began to find their way down his cheeks. 

He wondered if he would be allowed to see her again. 

He wondered if he would be allowed to meet their babe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur. Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. 
> 
> As you can see, it’s now official that this fic has only 36 chapters. That means we only have EIGHT chapters to go!
> 
> Also, for my latest Celiaverse fic, find it here under the title of [Love’s Not Always Wise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24538315/chapters/59249338)


	29. Celia XV

Dorne was everything Celia had imagined. Everything Arthur told her about the kingdom as they were pressed against one another in the afterglow of their coupling rang true. It was beautiful and breathtaking. She had never seen a place filled with such wonder. 

Elia embraced her older brothers and they showed her with such affection that Celia knew her friend sorely missed. She and Ashara could offer the princess only so much, but there was nothing like being embraced by their family. It made Celia miss her own family. She could not imagine how Ashara felt, one brother still in King’s Landing and the rest of her family elsewhere. 

Arthur…

Celia cupped her swollen belly tendery. Everything was sore and the rocking of the sea made her feel as though she were experiencing morning sickness all over again. But none of it distracted her from her aching heart. 

She wanted Arthur to be with her. She wanted his arms protectively around her as he pressed sweet kisses to her cheek and told her all about the hidden places of his liege lord’s keep where they might find a moment of quiet together. 

The babe in her belly kicked in protest, upset at their mother’s unhappiness and the lack of room had within her straining body. 

“We should set your friend up in her rooms,” Prince Doran said. “I have no doubt laying down on solid land will help calm your aching bones. Mellario has already alerted the cook to prepare some cold foods to ease yourself from the heat.”

“It can be quite hot even for someone who grew up in such heat,” the woman, Lady Mellario, said. “I cannot imagine how it must feel if you are not accustomed to the heat before being pregnant.”

Celia nodded her head, too far along to properly bow. “Thank you.” 

“Come,” Prince Oberyn said, clapping his hands together. “Let us settle in.”

—

The only women she had seen give birth had been Elia. Some part of her thought surely birth was not as painful as it looked to be and that Elia’s more chronic conditions were to blame for the painful natures of the birth. Surely it could not be so painful. Why on earth would any woman wish to have a child if it was so very painful. Surely it was not as bad as it had seemed. 

Naturally, Celia was wrong about such thoughts. 

Childbirth was painful. It felt as though her body was being split open and her insides were being ripped from her. Her entire body was on fire and she felt so very delirious from the pain that she wondered how she could still feel anything. Ashara and Elia were on either side of her as the maester assisted in the birth. 

“It’s alright, sweetling,” Elia said, smoothing Celia’s hair from her face. “It will all be worth it,” she said. “I promise. It will all be worth it.” 

“I want Arthur,” Celia sobbed as another contraction hit her.

Ashara kissed her hand. “And he wanted to be here too,” her friend said. “Just hang on a little longer. My idiot brother wouldn’t be helpful anyway. He would have fainted on sight.” 

Celia started to laugh, but it quickly turned into another shout as another contraction hit. 

“Almost there!” the maester called. “Almost.” 

Celia tried to put her focus on other things, like squeezing Ashsara and Elia’s hands. In truth, she was probably squeezing Ashara’s hand more than she was Elia’s. Celia honestly wasn’t sure. 

It was not until she heard the cry of a small babe that everything inside her seemed to click into place. 

“It’s a girl, my lady!” the maester called. “A beautiful little girl.”

Celia watched as the maester went to clean the baby, not far from where she was. Then the babe was given to her, such a small little thing that Celia could hardly believe such a small babe could cause so much trouble. 

“It told you she would be worth it,” Elia said, pressing a kiss to Celia’s temple. 

The babe had dark hair, whether it was dark red or brown, Celia could not tell yet, but from what Celia could see the babe had big blue eyes. “She’s beautiful.” 

“Have you thought of names?” Ashara asked. 

She and Arthur had mulled over names when they had started sharing her bed more permanently. “Dyanna,” she said firmly. “Her name is Dyanna.” 

—

The first news they had from King’s Landing was of the sack. 

The Lannister forces, having finally decided to pick the side of the rebels after the death of Rhaegar, had stormed the city, pillaging the people. Celia had no doubt there had been more that had been done, but the messenger seemed to be very much aware of the women in the room, specifically the woman with a newborn babe at her breast. Just because the messenger didn’t allude to any of what usually happened in a sack did not mean that it did not happen. 

They were then told that the rebels had taken the Red Keep, however, Elia and her children were still those who had the right to the throne, even if Robert Baratheon might have claim to it due to his hand being the one to slay Rhaegar. The Baratheon’s were the grandsons of Targaryens after all. 

“What of Arthur?” Celia asked. “And Jaime?”

The messenger shifted uncomfortably. “Ser Jaime is being held under house arrest in the Kingsguard quarters.” 

“And my brother?” Ashara asked. 

“The Kingslayer is being held in the Black Cells until there can be a proper trial.” 

Celia’s stomach dropped. 

“Kingslayer?” Prince Doran asked, his voice strained. 

“Ser Arthur Dayne killed King Aerys Targaryen, by all accounts, with a sword through the back.” The messenger looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. “There will be a formal trial, but the rebel leaders wished for me to send word to you as he is a man, although sword to the king, of Dornish descent. They await your representative.”

Celia, still very much as she was before Dyanna’s birth, burst into tears as her world seemed to begin collapsing in on itself. 


	30. Arthur XV

He had no real preference when it came to the sex of his child. All Arthur cared for was that his child was healthy and safe and loved. 

He could imagine raising her amongst the walls of Starfall, next to Celia for every second of the days allowed him. He could imagine teaching their child how to walk in the gardens. He could see him sneaking his child out of lessons with the maester or septa to go to the kitchens for a sweet treat. He could see Celia measuring them for new clothes and them all dressed in violet with white stars embroidered onto the hem of shirts and skirts. He could imagine their child's first word, first dance. He could see teaching them how to use a sword or dagger. He could imagine passing Dawn to his child one day, when they were old enough and ready to carry such responsibility. 

He could imagine all these things, but he was not sure if he would be allowed them. He might never see Starfall again. He might never see Celia again. He might never be allowed to meet his child. From his place in the Black Cells, Arthur had all the time in the world to think and obsess over the best course of action for his child. That’s all that mattered in the end: Celia and their child. Boy or girl, it did not matter. What mattered was that their child would be allowed to have one of their parents by their side. 

The rebels would not take kindly to Arthur’s supposed treason.

He was Dornish and were all cheats and liars in their eyes, especially the men. He had snuck Elia and her children out which meant that the Targaryen line would still be there, still ready and able to take the throne with the backing of Dorne. 

Arthur had been a well known friend of Rhaegar. Even if he had given Lord Eddard Stark the location of his sister, if the girl had died, Rhaegar was already dead and there would be no one else to blame but him. 

There were no good outcomes for him in any of this. Even letting Jaime take the rightful blame would not help. It was Arthur’s own fault that Jaime had even become a kingsguard. He should have warned the boy away. He should have tried to talk Jaime out of even going anywhere near the white cloak. But he hadn’t and now the boy was in danger of losing everything. 

Even though Arthur regretted his vows because of how they kept him from the woman he loved, he had known, to a very near approximation as to what he was signing up for. Jaime did not. 

Jaime had a better chance of getting out of all of this in one piece. Jaime was Arthur’s only hope when it came to Celia and their child having a safe life, even if it was without him. 

—

It was not too long after that, that Jaime came down to see him. 

“Why did you take the blame?” the young Lannister knight hissed. “Why did you take the fall for something that I did? What of Celia and the babe? You cannot think that this will protect them.” He knelt down so that he was at Arthur’s level. “This will destroy her.” 

“It’s the only way to protect her,” Arthur said. “Only one of us was ever going to come out of this unscathed, but only one of us has the better chance of getting out of this completely.” 

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” 

“Your father only made the decision to go against the king after Rhaegar was defeated. He is on shaky ground as it is and his son killing the king he swore to protect will do nothing to keep him and your house in the rebels’ good graces.” 

“That still doesn’t explain anything!” Jaime shouted. 

“I’m getting to that. I will never be released from my vows. I was a man, older than you are now, when I took them. I took them willingly and without force. You, on the other hand, were a boy and everyone knows that King Aerys knighted you as one of his kingsguard as a way to get back at your father for his withdrawn support.”    
Jaime stared at Arthur incredulously. “You mean for my vows to be revoked.” 

The Dornish knight nodded. “With that, you would be free and be able to return to Casterly Rock.” 

“But what does that have to do with Celia?” 

“You must claim that our child is your own.” 

Jaime looked at Arthur in absolute horror. “You cannot be serious?!” 

“I am.” 

“But that’s insane. You would ask me to claim that I got Celia with hild, that I broke my vows? That I have given her a bastard? Do you think my father would take kindly to such things?” 

“If it gives you a greater chance at being free from your vows, yes.” He took hold of Jaime’s arm. “Celia’s sisters have married Lord Eddard Stark and Lord Jon Arryn. If Celia were to be connected to the heir of Casterly Rock, an alliance would be more complete. Celia and Princess Elia are friends. Whether the child be a boy or a girl, your father will seek to put them as close to the throne as possible if he thinks they are his heir’s child. A marriage to Princess Rhaenys or Prince Aegon would be arranged with most of the participants of the rebellion being satisfied.” 

“Celia would not want this,” Jaime tried to reason. “She would want you.” 

“I know,” he said. “More than anything, I want the same, but we can’t know for sure if I would be allowed to leave my vows. I can’t guarantee that the babe wouldn’t be taken from Celia because there is no father to properly raise them. You have a change to protect them Jaime. I know it is a lot to ask you, but it is the only way I can protect them.” He squeezed Jaime’s arm. “Please.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIX chapters left to go!
> 
> And sorry I’ve been dropping the ball on this fic. It had been stolen and I found it hard to find inspiration to write, but I shall endeavor to do so.


	31. Celia XVI

Dyanna was Celia’s little star. Although she had more of the Tully look, Celia could see echoes of Arthur in their daughter’s features. Her hair, although short, already showed a slight curl to it that was most definitely from the little star’s father. And then the shape of her eyes and nose were most definitely Arthur’s. In other words, Celia’s daughter was perfect. 

She was a gentle girl and had a sweet temperament. Although she cried as much as any other babe, she was easy to please and comfort. All the sweet girl seemed to crave was a chest to snuggle into and any who held her was blessed with a content babe in their arms. Celia knew that she was biased, but she couldn’t help it. Dyanna was her entire world and she couldn’t wait for Arthur to meet her.

Arthur would love her. He would never want to put her down. He would carry her everywhere, even when she would be learning to walk. Celia could imagine their lives together could imagine it all coming together. However, they still needed to clear Arthur for his supposed crimes. 

If he killed King Aerys, it was for a reason. Arthur wouldn’t do something so risky. Even so, the rebels should be glad that the king was gone, the only reason they wouldn’t be is because someone wanted the throne and Elia and Aegon weren’t there. The Targaryen dynasty hadn’t ended.

Celia shook her head and put her focus onto Dyanna, who was nursing at her breast. Celia was sitting in her cot on the ship, leaning against the wall as the waves slowly rocked them. She was glad that it was a peaceful sea, she would be so very frightened if it were storming. 

Elia had remained in Dorne with her children, hesitant to go to a place where she and Rhaenys and Aegon might be in danger. However, Ashara had come as a representative of her house for Arthur and Prince Oberyn had come as a representative for House Martell. Soon, everything would be made right. 

“You are going to meet your father soon, sweet girl,” Celia said, brushing her lips against Dyanna’s soft hair. “He’s a wonderful man, your father and he is going to love you more than anything, sweetling.” Dyanna’s mouth popped from Celia’s breast and she smacked her lips together, her eyelids growing heavy as she yawned. Celia smiled. “We’ll see him soon.” 

—

They reached King’s Landing and Celia knew that Arthur would not be meeting them on the docks. Even so, she had hoped that he would be there. 

At the very least, Jaime was the one waiting for them. Celia became worried once she laid eyes on him. He was so very pale and he looked thin, as though he had not been eating or sleeping. He was not wearing his armor, wearing plain clothes instead. He was not even wearing his white cloak and Celia began to grow even more worried. Why was he not dressed as a kingsguard. Had something happened? Had he been removed from his post? 

As soon as they touched down upon the docks Jaime was hugging her, Dyanna between them, nestled carefully, with only a slight annoyed whine to indicate her discomfort. 

“Is this the babe?” Jaime asked in a low voice. He sounded weary too.   
“Yes,” Celia said softly. “Her name is Dyanna.” 

“A Dornish name,” he said, pressing his brow against her own.

Celia narrowed her eyes. She didn’t understand why Jaime was being so informal with her in how he was touching her. It was improper, even. “Yes?” She pushed her confusion aside. “How is Arthur?” 

“He’s in the black cells,” Jaime said softly. 

Celia’s heart seized in her chest. “Is he alright?”

“He misses you,” Jaime answered gently. He was looking at Dyanna with a tender gaze. “Celia.” 

“Yes?” 

“You cannot announce Arthur as the father of Dyanna. Not yet, at least.” 

Celia looked at him with wide eyes. “What? Why not?” 

“We cannot guarantee you or Dyanna staying together, not until we know the outcome of Arthur’s impending trial.” 

“But…” 

Jaime shook his head. “Celia, this is a perilous situation. We can’t know what the others will decide. A king has been killed and they must decide how the new order must be, even if Aegon gets the crown. If Arthur is to remain a kingsguard, then there would be no protection for you and you and Dyanna might be separated.”

“We wouldn’t.”

“Can you tell me with assurance that your father would allow you to keep her, even if Arthur cannot properly claim her?” 

That gave Celia pause. She could remember vaguely of Lysa writing to her, of their father giving her moontea when she had slept with Petyr and fallen pregnant. Family, duty, honor. Even so, her father held his honor proudly. She looked down at Dyanna, who began to fuss ever so slightly. 

“I won’t say anything.” 

Jaime looked at her sadly. “I’m sorry.” 

—

Jaime managed to sneak Celia and Dyanna down into the black cells to see Arthur. 

A sob tore at her throat at the sight of him. He looked so ragged. His hair was a mess and his eyes had dark circles. 

“Arthur,” she whispered his name like a broken prayer upon her lips. 

He looked up at her, his eyes distant for a moment as though he was not truly seeing her. But then, his eyes cleared and he stood quickly, stumbling slightly as he did so. He grasped onto the bars of his cell and pressed his body against them as though to get as close to her as possible. Tears began to spill from his eyes as her own name fell from his lips as though he had found salvation. 

“You’re here,” he whispered. 

Dyanna made her presence known, squirming slightly and frowning, not liking the cold or the sudden way her mother had spoken. 

Arthur’s gaze shifted to the bundle in her arms. His expression broke Celia’s heart. It looked as though he had found the greatest treasure in all of Westeros. “Is that…” 

Celia nodded quickly, tears catching upon her lashes. “This is your daughter, Dyanna.” 

“Dyanna,” he whispered back, looking at her with all the adoration in the world. 

Jaime stepped back to give them a moment of privacy. “I can give you ten minutes,” he said, before stepping out of earshot. 

“She’s beautiful,” Arthur said softly. He looked up at her, a smile upon his lips. “And she takes after you.” 

“She has your nose though,” Celia said. “Her eyes too.” 

He continued to smile and looked down at Dyanna again. “I wish I could have been there for you.” 

“You can be here for us now,” she reasoned, touching his cheek carefully. 

Arthur closed his eyes and nuzzled her hand, the hair of his growing beard tickling against her skin. “I don’t know if I can.” 

“Don’t give up on us Arthur,” she begged. “Please.” 

“I don’t know if they will let me out of here, Celia,” he told her, cupping his hand over hers. 

“You will,” she insisted. “They have to see that you are innocent. Jaime told me what you did, surely anyone would understand.” 

“Celia, I can’t guarantee anything,” he tried to reason. “I cannot guarantee that our daughter will be safe. I cannot guarantee that they will let me live much less let me walk away from my vows as a kingsguard. I don’t know if I will be allowed to be her father.” He kissed the palm of her hand. You need to consider the possibility that you will have to name someone else.”

“I cannot pretend to love Jaime,” she said. “Not like that.” 

“If it is to protect our daughter, you would.” 

“Arthur…” 

“I cannot make promises,” he said. “I can’t. All I can do is make sure you and Dyanna have the best life that you can and if that means I cannot claim you, then that is what I have to do. Just know that I will do everything in my power to be in her life. I swear it before all the gods, old and new.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mom is sick and I’m helping around the house. I meant to publish FDH and TPS chapters today as well, but I don’t have the time to. Sorry things have been hectic 😭


	32. Arthur XVI

Arthur stood before the rebel leaders. There was a distinct pain in the back of his head from crying the previous night. 

Dyanna was beautiful. He prayed to all the gods that she grew up to be nothing like him, that she grew to be just like her mother, with all the loveliness of the world. If she were anything like him… If the trial didn’t go well, Arthur didn’t want Celia to be forced to live with that constant reminder, yet, at the same time, he knew that she would want it, knew that she would want to have any piece of him that she could have. They were both selfish in that way he supposed. 

Arthur would never regret his daughter, but he knew that he should have done things differently. 

He shouldn’t have gone to Celia that night in Harrenhal. He shouldn’t have let himself be drawn so close to her. He shouldn’t have allowed himself that. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so focused on her, he would have been able to find out Rhaegar’s plot sooner. Perhaps Rhaegar’s ill-advised plan would have never taken shape. 

But there was only so much he could blame himself for. 

“You stand accused of murder,” Lord Jon Arryn said. “You stand accused of treason. For breaking your vows of the Kingsguard, for killing King Aerys, otherwise known as the Mad King. How do you answer these charges?” 

“I am guilty of murder, my lords,” Arthur said. “But I am not guilty of treason.” 

A whisper began to echo amongst the crowd and Arthur could see Jaime standing next to Celia, pale and looking about to faint. Celia’s eyes were rimmed red and even he could tell that she had been crying, but people no doubt assumed it was for taking care of their daughter so late into the evening. 

“You see yourself as being guilty for murdering your king, but not for treason?” Lord Robert Baratheon said with a scoff. “You and the rest of the Daynes might not look fully Dornish, but you are all liars it seems.” 

Arthur kept himself from reacting. These would be the accusations Dyanna would be forced to carry. He couldn’t do that, not to her or her mother. 

“Only some of you resided in this keep when King Aerys ruled it. Only some of you know what that man was like in truth. Others of you had seen him in Harrenhal, you cannot tell me that the king had any right to rule, was even fit to rule.” 

“And you were the one who gets to decide that?” Lord Arryn asked. 

“Tell me, my lords,” Arthur countered. “What were your plans when you took King’s Landing, if you had been able to take it as you had planned? I am guessing you would have had him killed, but only for the crimes of killing Lord Rickard Stark and his heir.” Speaking of the Starks, he saw that Lord Eddard was not present. Perhaps he had gone to find his sister and Arthur prayed to all the gods that he was able to get to her. “I killed him for more crimes than that.” 

“And what crimes are those, ser?” Lord Arryn asked.

“Around this city, you will find caches of wildfire,” he said, looking the man in the eyes. “Next to King Aerys you would have found another man, a pyromancer. The Mad King had plans to set the city ablaze. He planned to let all the city burn alongside those who resided within its walls and those who had come to liberate it.” The word was probably the best choice, but a choice nonetheless. “I have stood by and watched for too long as Aerys and Rhaegar both began to bring destruction upon this city and realm. I could do it no longer.” 

He had been too complicit in all of this. He had only acted when it affected him, his sister, his friend, and his love and child. He had let too much go by without a contradictory word. He had no right to withhold a future from Jaime, even if he made the boy act as father to his daughter. This was the only way to atone for his sins, but to also make sure that his family was safe. 

The trial persisted, but it was left with others to speak in his defense, including Jaime and Celia. 

“He’s a good man, my lords,” Celia said gently. “Please.” 

Arthur closed his eyes as the lords called for the end of the trial and he was sent back to his cell until they found their verdict. 

—

“We have received a letter from Lord Eddard Stark,” Lord Arryn announced. “He found his sister, Lady Lyanna Stark, dying in the Tower of Joy due to complications in a misscarriage.”

Arthur closed his eyes, cursing Rhaegar and his stupidity. If he could, he would bring the young dragon back just to strangle him. How could he be so stupid? How could he think something like that would work. 

“Ser Arthur Dayne,” Lord Arryn continued. “You were the one to alert Lord Stark of the whereabouts of his sister, correct?” 

“Yes, my lord,” Arthur said. “When I was able to learn about her location, I sent word to Lord Stark. I even sent word to Lord Brandon Stark when I was told of Prince Rhaegar’s apparent infatuation with the Northern Lady.”

“We have deliberated the case carefully,” Lord Arryn said. “While we do find you guilty of kingslaying, we do not find you treasonous to the realm. For that, you will not be killed. However, you will be given the option of taking the Black or remaining in the Kingsguard to serve Aegon Targaryen. Your punishment will be that you will never again be allowed to return to your House seat of Starfall and will be stripped of your title of Sword of the Morning, as well as your sword Dawn, which will be returned to your house.” 

Arthur bowed his head. At the very least… At the very least he might be allowed to watch his daughter grow up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close to the end!


	33. Celia XVII

Jaime led Celia away as the sentencing, as tears began to run down her cheeks. Ashara had been the one to motion the knight to take her out. She was to go to her brother and check on him, but also to take Dawn from him. 

Jaime led Celia down the hall and sat her down on one of the benches, kneeling before her as he did so, allowing her to cry. 

The tears were hot and heavy down her cheeks as she tried to control herself. Arthur would either be forced to take the Black or keep his vows as a Kingsguard. There was no other option, no other available plan. It was one or the other and Celia knew that she could not claim him as Dyanna’s father. 

Her father wouldn’t allow Dyanna to come to Riverrun. Dyanna couldn’t go to Starfall permanently either for it was too far and Arthur would never be allowed to see her in the place he grew up and Celia was uncertain if she would be allowed to remain in King’s Landing. True, Elia would probably welcome her, but there was everything else. The whispers Dyanna would have while growing up as her father would never be allowed to formally recognize her. Celia had no idea what that would be like for a child. She couldn’t possibly understand what being denied her father publicly would do to Dyanna. 

“What do you want to do?” Jaime asked her. 

“Tell your father that Dyanna is yours,” she whispered. “Tell him that you named her thus because Arthur protected you and you did so to honor him.”

Jaime nodded and kissed her hands. 

“I don’t know if I can love you, Jaime.”

“You can,” he said gently. “Maybe not as you love Arthur, but there could be love, maybe not a romance like the songs, but one that will protect Dyanna from those who might doubt her birth.”

—

Elia arrived a month later as small preparations for Celia to marry Jaime were prepared to meet at least some of Lord Tywin’s standards. 

“I’m sorry that this has to happen Celia,” Elia said, sitting down in Queen Rhaella’s old room. The queen had died giving birth to her daughter and Ser Barristan Selmy had been sent to look after Prince Viserys and the new Princess Daenerys. 

Celia shook her hand. She was tired of them all being sorry. She was tired of those words when nothing could be done to fix it. She would never regret her daughter, but Celia wondered how things might have been different if she had no child or if she and Arthur had not succumbed to their desire for one another. She wondered if it would be a different man who would meet her at the altar. 

“You need not apologize, Elia,” Celia said softly. “It’s not your fault.”

“But you were my friend and you served as my lady’s maid,” the Dornish Queen took Celia’s hand in her own. “It was my duty to look after you. You were under my protection and I allowed you to get hurt.”

“Some of it was my own fault.”

Elia squeezed her hand. “Even so.” She leaned back. “I have a plan for Dyanna to be allowed to see her father in a more formal capacity.”

“And that is?”

“Around this time, Lord Tywin will be receiving a letter in my hand suggesting a betrothal contract between Aegon and Dyanna. Since he either believes or is allowing himself to believe that Dyanna is his granddaughter, such a match should be welcome by him. He always wanted a member of his family on the throne. He would have prefered Lady Cersei to marry Rhaegar, but now his granddaughter shall be queen. But, in truth, it will be a girl of Dornish descent. Both our children are half Dornish and, I think, the realm would be better for it.”

“And how does this keep Dyanna here?”

“I would ask Lord Tywin, although it would be less of a request and more of a demand, that Dyanna stay in the Red Keep to receive proper training for her future role as queen and that you and Ser Jaime should stay here as well.” Elia looked at her fondly, if not a bit sadly. “That, my friend, is all I can do.”

Celia bowed her head. “Thank you, Elia.”

—

It was the day before her wedding. 

“My father will demand witnesses,” Jaime said softly as he sat down next to Celia in the gardens. She held Dyanna in her arms, letting her daughter nurse quietly. “He doesn’t wish to be a fool. I tried to talk him out of such things, but…”

“I understand,” she said quickly. 

“I will do what I can to protect you, Celia,” he said gently. He put his arm around her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You and Dyanna. I… I never thought much about children, but I will protect you as much as I am able and will be the best father that I can be, better than my own.”

Celia nodded. “Thank you, Jaime,” she said softly. “I think you’ll make a good father. And… I hope I can give you an heir someday. I just… I don’t think I can do it now.” 

“You’re still healing,” Jaime said. “Elia will make sure they won’t call a bedding during the feast, but my father will request for one once we reach Casterly Rock and spend time there.”

Celia nodded. “I trust you, Jaime.”

He kissed her cheek. “I’ll protect you, Celia. I promise.”

—

Jaime kept look out as Arthur stayed in Celia’s room for just long enough to have Dyanna settled and falling asleep. The two were curled around their daughter and Celia’s heart fluttered in her chest as she knew that this would be the first and last time. 

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love both of you. So so much.”

“I love you too, Arthur.” 

They watched as Dyanna drifted off into a peaceful slumber between them and that was when Arthur had to leave. He slid from the bed carefully and pressed a tender kiss to Celia’s lips and a gentle kiss to Dyanna’s curls. He stepped back and his violet eyes were rimmed red as Celia could see he was trying to stop himself from crying. 

“I love you,” he said again and he was made to step back. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters to go, but two of them are epilogues 😱


	34. Arthur XVII

The wedding was simply, simpler than anything Lord Tywin Lannister would want, but the Old Lion had to deal with it. To the world, his son had aired a bastard and he couldn’t have that. 

Dyanna’s legitimization document was already being sent to the Citadel as Celia was offered to Jaime by her father. 

The Riverlord looked uncomfortable and even glared slightly at Jaime as he placed the Lannister cloak on her shoulders. There had been no maiden cloak, no sign of her innocence and purity because all knew she had birthed a bastard to a man who had sworn to be chaste. At least people agreed that Jaime had been forced to take the Kingsguard vows. There would have been no such compassion for Arthur. 

Ashara had stood by him during the ceremony, holding his hand as he watched the love of his life marry another man. When they were entreated to kiss and seal their vows, Arthur looked away to Dyanna, whom Ashara was holding. 

They were doing this to protect her. 

Her and Celia were the most important people in his life and, if protecting them meant not being able to claim them, then he would do anything.

—

There was a small feast after the ceremony. Celia spent most of the time with her new husband and her new good sister and her good father. 

Cersei Lannister glanced around and caught Arthur’s eye and nodded, getting her father’s attention and pulling him along to discuss something. Jaime then spoke softly to Celia and she looked to Arthur in hope. 

The two came together so naturally as Arthur approached her, requesting a dance after she had already shared plenty with Jaime. 

This dance was a group dance and safer, squashing any rumors that might endanger Dyanna. But that is what their entire relationship had been, hadn’t it?

It was like a dance, where they were in the same grouping but not true partners. They orbited each other in a close circle. A knuckle running along the curve of her skirt. A finger trailing against his thigh. One hand brushing against another. They would come together only for their breath to mingle and then diverge as the dance took them in opposite directions.

But in those seconds where they faced one another. It was an eclipse. The world was their own, both hidden for a moment in time that was theirs. Just theirs.

“I will see you again soon,” he vowed as they came together one last time. “I promise.” He took her hand and kissed it as the dance demanded, but he meant it as she curtsied to him and she stood. 

Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. He bowed to her and she went back to Jaime, turning to glance at him one more time after Tywin Lannister returned to the room. 

—

It had been months since Celia had been fine, almost a year, acclimating, no doubt, to her new role as the Lady of Casterly Rock. 

She could not write him directly, however, half of her letters to Ashara or Elia were obviously directed towards him and he relished in her words, the way she said everything and nothing at all. At night he would read them and, for a moment, he could hear her voice on the wind whispering to him and he could dream peacefully 

Celia had been gone for a year when she sent another letter to Ashara. 

His sister had come to him, her eyes sad and distant as she gave him the letter and he read it over, but only one part stayed in his mind, no matter how he had tried to glean any other information from it. 

Celia was pregnant, and Arthur knew it was not his. 

—

Celia and Jaime arrived at King’s Landing a year and a half later, their son, a boy named Jon, in tow. His hair was a strawberry blond and hand blue green eyes. Jaime handed Arthur Dyanna under the guise of tending to his son and Celia, but Arthur knew this was his chance. He looked to his precious girl and saw that she had taken a little after him, the way her nose sloped and the slight curl of her hair and the dimples in her cheeks. 

He pressed a kiss to her hair and breathed her in. “I love you, my sweet girl,” he told her gently. “I love you. 

Arthur led them to the rooms Celia and Jaime would share with their family. Jaime gave his excuses and allowed Celia and Arthur a moment alone. 

“He’s beautiful,” Arthur said, still holding Dyanna and looking over the little lion. 

“He is,” she said gently. 

“Are you happy?” he asked her, unsure of what answer he wanted. 

“I’m content. I have my children and Jaime has been a true friend and husband. He has loved me as well as he can and I him.” Celia looked up at him, her eyes bright. “But I know it will not be the life I had hoped for, but for Dyanna and Jon… I will do anything for them.”

Arthur took one of her hands and kissed it. “I will do all I can to keep the children safe. Rhaenys and Aegon included.”

Celia smiled and brought his own hand to her lips and he knew that she could see her favor tied around his wrist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters/epilogues to go!


	35. Dyanna I

“Mother!” her son ran up to her, his dark curls windswept, having no doubt run there from his discussions with his father. Arthur bent down and kissed Dyanna’s cheek. “Father decided to finally let myself and Jaime out of our meetings early today.”

Dyanna shook her head. “You boys are going to turn your father’s hair grey instead of silver in no time.”

Arthur grinned. “That’s Jaime’s job.”

“Just because Jaime is your younger brother doesn’t mean you can place all the blame on him.” 

Arthur grinned, his lips parting into a lopsided smile and she kissed her temple. “Well, I have to go. I promised I would meet Aunt Rhaenys in the training yard.”

“Are you so fond of being thoroughly defeated?”

Arthur opened his mouth in offense. “I resent that. “I have nearly beaten her three times now.”

“But of course,” Dyanna said. She kissed her son’s cheek. “Now, go lose with grace, my darling.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and squeezed her hand. Dyanna watched as he left, saddened by the fact that her younger two, her only sons, were men grown now. She had five children. Five that were so beautiful and kind and so very much Dornish. 

There was Ellianna, who had married into House Tyrell five years ago and had given Dyanna and Aegon two beautiful grandchildren and they had a hard time not spoiling them whenever they visited. Dyanna was planning on visiting just to see those sweet babes for no other reason but that. Ellianna complained constantly of such a fact, but Dyanna knew her eldest was secretly proud of her children’s easiness to be loved. 

Then, there was Cecilia, who had married into House Baratheon three years ago and had given Dyanna and her husband one grandchild. 

There was Ashara who had married into House Dayne, her husband was soon to be named as Sword of the Morning if all continued to go well. 

Arthur, her eldest son and her husband’s heir was betrothed to an Arryn girl who would be arriving shortly, but her arrival had been delayed due…

Dyanna shook her head. Perhaps she might find comfort in her youngest, sweet Jaime who she wishes would never grow up. Although she did hope he would eventually grow out of bringing mud into the inner chambers of the Red Keep. 

She sighed. She had noticed the pain in her eldest son’s eyes. He was putting on a brave face for her and she loved him for it. But at the same time, it felt as though she must do the same. 

—

Jon kissed Dyanna’s cheek after he helped their father and Jon’s wife, Sansa, into the carriage. They would be returning to Casterly Rock with their mother’s remains. 

She had died peacefully just two days ago. She was treated with almost as much reverence as Queen Elia had been. She had been surrounded by family, with Dyanna sitting at her mother’s side, holding her hand and listening to her softly spoken words. 

Dyanna wished her brother would stay longer, but she understood why Jon and their father wished to return home. Both to properly bury their mother but to also get away from the sadness that the Red Keep now haunted them with. 

If Dyanna were honest, she would wish to leave too, but she was the queen, and there was still another who needed her presence. 

—

Dyanna has spent most of her life in the Red Keep, Dave for the summer visits to Casterly Rock. Her fate had been decided since she was a babe. Not that she minded. Dyanna loved her husband, she had been thrilled upon first learning that Aegon was to be her husband and Rhaenys was to be her good sister. 

Dyanna and Aegon had always been close and marriage had always felt like a natural progression of their relationship. And now they were parents and grandparents and Dyanna could not help but bathe in the happiness of it all. 

However… she had seen the cracks of her family and knew them well, better perhaps than Jon who had never wanted to see anything off about their parents’ marriage. 

She has no doubt that her mother and father loved and respected one another. There were a few songs told about their romance during the final year of the Mad King’s reign. Yet, Dyanna had seen the cracks. She could see that her parents loved one another but they were not in love, not like how Dyanna loved Aegon. She could see that sometimes that she looked so very little like her father, despite there being more than Tully blood running through her veins. 

She had known for a long time, the truth. But it did not change that Ser Jaime Lannister was her father. He was her father and Dyanna’s mother had said as much upon her deathbed, assuring Dyanna that her father loved her, that her papa loved her too. 

Aegon came to their room and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. 

“He needs you, Dyanna,” he said gently. “I don’t think he has much longer.”

—

Dyanna visited a room her mother had once said was her own during her time at the Red Keep when the Mad King reigned. It was no longer a proper room, though. 

The maester bowed his head in respect as Dyanna entered and she sat down next to the bed that held Ser Arthur Dayne. 

“Hello, Papa,” she said softly, taking his hand in hers and brushing some of the grey hair from his brow. 

“Dyanna.” His voice was so very weak and cracked. He was fading, fading so quickly that she could see it happen before her very eyes. 

“You are to see Mother soon,” Dyanna said gently, pressing a kiss to his hand. 

This was why she could not leave with her father and brother to bury her mother. This brave, gentle, and strong man deserved to have someone beside him in his final moments. His sister was gone and he had never been allowed to have a family. The Kingslayer. Dyanna’s father had told her and Jon the truth of that title and she could not help but love the man who aired her more for it. He had protected all of them, even when it was the cost of herself. 

“Celia,” Ser Arthur whispered. 

“Mm,” Dyanna hummed. “You’ll see mother soon.” She stood and pressed a kiss to his brow. “I love you, Papa.”

“Celia…”

His hold on her hand grew lax and Dyanna held it firmly between her hands. She sat back down and allowed herself a moment to mourn. Mourn all the what ifs and what could have beens. She prayed that, if there was a next life, that they could all find each other again and be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last paragraph gives you a little glimpse of what the final (longer) epilogue will look like 😉


	36. Epilogue

“Research sucks,” Celia groused, leering her head fall onto the keyboard of her laptop. She heard multiple keys click and looked up and saw that random letters had been typed. Celia sighed, a slight growl coming from deep within her throat as she sat up and backspaced. 

“Just pick a different subject,” Elia, her best freaking friend since college, said. “Honestly you’re making this worse for yourself. You  _ know  _ things from the Mad King era are so fuzzy in history. You told me so yourself when we were studying for our history 101 exams.”

“You don’t get to say anything,” Celia said, pointing to the Dornish woman. “You are a preschool teacher.”

“Listen, children are like little dragons who can’t breathe fire. They’re impossible.”

Celia grunted before saving what little of her thesis paper she had written and turned off her computer. “But this could be a major discovery within the academic field of history!”

“You do realize that there are people on Ao3 who write fanfiction about the two you are,” Elia said, pulling her chair up next to Celia’s. 

“Yeah, but that’s based on the show  _ Shadow of the Dragon _ , not actually any historical fact and the two actors that played them got married so duh their chemistry was amazing. I, on the other hand, have proof that Celia Lannister, then Tully, was in a romantic relationship with Ser Arthur Dayne and based on the timeline he could have been the father of Queen Dyanna.”

“Then just publish the letter.”

“That’s a cool out.”

“Gods, Celia. You’re just making it more difficult for yourself.”

“Says the woman who's dating freaking Jaime Lannister, the hottest guy from uni and the guy with  _ a tongue of a thousand suns _ .” Celia made a face. 

Elia threw a pillow at her face. “I told you that in private!”

“You told me and Ashara that in private.”

Elia rolled her eyes then. “Speaking of Ashara she’s in town and we are going to meet her at the gallery.”

“I don’t want to go to the gallery.”

“Too bad, this is Ashara’s first big exhibit and we are going to support her on the opening day.”

“Fine. But she is  _ not  _ going to try and set me up with her brother again.”

“You haven’t even met him yet.”

“No, but he’s a freaking KG, those guys are scary.”

“Jaime is KG,” Elia countered. 

“Yeah, but Jaime goes from lion to kitten the second you’re in his presence so he’s not threatening at all.”

Elia rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s go get ready.”

—

“You have the day off,” Ashara snapped, and Arthur winced at her tone. “Don’t deny it, I asked Jaime ahead of time.”

Arthur glared at Jaime who shrugged, not the least bit apologetic. “It  _ is  _ my day off, but maybe I want to sleep and play video games.”

Ashara made an offended sound. “It’s my gallery opening today. And my one and only big brother isn’t even going to come?”

“I am  _ literally  _ not your only big brother. Daeron is literally a phone call away from Dorne.”

“He does not freaking count. Those who helped supply the art don’t have to attend.”

“Not freaking fair.”

“Well, Elia and Celia are going to be there.”

Jaime has obviously heard his girlfriend’s name because his cheeks turned red. 

“Are you  _ still  _ trying to set us up? Seriously? Just because you got Elia and Jaime together and just because you were somehow able to get Brandon Stark to put a ring in that finger doesn’t mean you’re a matchmaker.”

“But you guys would look so cute together!”

Arthur sighed. “Seriously Ashara?”

“The aesthetics!”

Arthur cringed. “Fine. I will come to your gallery opening, but only if you never ever talk about aesthetics with my dating life again.”

“Deal.” She hung up the phone without even a single goodbye. 

Arthur sighed. “Come on, Jaime. We’re going to the Rhaella Targaryen Art Museum.”

—

“It’s a great exhibit,” Celia said, hugging Ashara tightly, although not too fightly due to the very slight baby bump. “The Daynes never cease to amaze me when it comes to your art.”

Ashara smiled. “I mean, I am named after the Ashara who painted a lot of these. She was the first woman to be a court painter.”

“Total nepotism though,” Elia said. “Considering she and the Queen Regent were, like, best friends.”

“Doesn’t detract from the talent though,” Celia said with a nod, looking at all the paintings. She supposed it would do as good research for her thesis since these portraits were done in the era she was writing on.

“Celia, I forbid you from doing research now,” Ashara said. 

“Well that’s not fair,” Celia scoffed. 

“Just enjoy the exhibit for now,” Ashara reasoned. “Maybe an idea will come to you when you’re not thinking.”

Celia sighed. “Fine.”

“Oh!” Elia said. “I see Jaime. Meet you guys here in an hour?”

“Sure,” Ashara replied. “I need to meet up with Brandon anyway. He’s always wanted to do it in a gallery.”

“Ugh,” Celia said, making a face. “You guys are horrible.”

“You’ll figure it out once you find the right guy.”

“Sure Jayne,” Celia said, waving them off to start looking at the portraits.

They were all mostly done by Ashara the Elder, Ashara the Younger, who was her niece, carried on her legacy with the reign of King Aegon the Just. It was a fascinating turning point in the Targaryen dynasty. With a Dornish mother and a largely Dornish influenced court, the ways of the Dragon began to change until they eventually became a constitutional monarchy about three hundred years ago. All fascinating really. 

Celia paused in her thoughts when a person caught her eye, but when she looked up to see, people had moved and the figure was gone. 

Hm?

She shook her head and continued to look at the portraits before stopping in front of one of the subjects of her thesis. Celia Tully, who she was named after was pretty, not as pretty as the other women in the exhibit, but she was pretty. She wore a gown of Lannister gold and red. Her hair was in the Dornish fashion as was the style of the time. She was sitting at a writing desk, as many of her later letters to her sister in the North have survived and chronicled a lot of the new Targaryen dynasty until her death. In the painting with her was the future Queen Dyanna, only known as Dyanna Lannister at that point. The girl was dressed in gold and and standing, her arms around her mother’s neck as the two looked on to the painter. 

This was a portrait yet to be revealed to the public and Celia was thankful, although she would never give Ashara a chance to gloat over her, that she had gotten the chance to see it. 

Celia glances up at the corner of the painting to the window. Windows often gave hints that only the painter understood and sometimes, when the stars were out, it was a chance for her to see what time of year the portrait might have been made. However, instead of anything usual within the painting’s outside section, she saw the sun having already set and the sky a dark violet with a shooting star falling from the sky. 

The symbol of House Dayne. 

Celia took out her phone and began taking pictures and notes. 

—

Arthur has to admit his sister did a good job, considering it  _ was  _ her job. The gallery opening seemed to be a success. There were a lot of big name people who had come. Even some of the cast from  _ Shadow of the Dragon _ , which was even more impressive. But, to be fair, the actor who had played his namesake had spent the summer before shooting at Starfall to learn all that he could about the person he was playing. Maybe he thought he owed House Dayne the favor. But who knew. 

A person caught his eye and he turned to look at her, but people were moving about the exhibit and he lost sight of whoever it was that had caught his gaze. She had red hair. That’s all he could catch. Either way, he shrugged and continued to make his way through the exhibit until he was standing in front of the portrait of Ser Arthur Dayne, the Fallen Star, the Kingslayer. Most people didn’t refer to him by the last title anymore. Everyone knew what the Mad King was going to do. It was a very good looking portrait. The knight was standing in his Kingsguard uniform. They had been the precursor to the KG, only the KG could get married and have families of their own. He was pretty sure it was Queen Dyanna that had the rule changed but Arthur had never been a big history buff so he couldn’t be sure. 

Ser Arthur Dayne was posed, leaning against a column that was probably somewhere in the Red Keep before the reconstruction of it. It was obvious that he was at ease with the painter, a sly smile upon his lips. Arthur himself had worn similar expressions whenever his sister had tried to do portraits. Something that stuck out though was the handkerchief or fabric sticking out of the knight’s armor at his wrist. The cloth was worn and old and seemed to have been used for a long time, yet it seemed to be something that the knight cared for as his opposite hand was touching it lightly, drawing Arthur’s attention to it. 

Huh. 

Interesting. 

Arthur turned his body to move onto the next painting, but kept his head towards the Ser Arthur Dayne portrait, which was a stupid thing to do as he ran right into someone. 

“Shit,” he said as the woman he had run into dropped what she was holding, a phone, a notepad and a pencil. “Sorry about that.” He bent down and picked up her things before properly looking up at her. 

She was pretty, like really pretty, in a way that she might not realize she’s pretty because she looks at herself every day. Her hair was a vibrant red and her eyes were the clearest blue that Arthur had ever seen. 

He stood and handed her stuff back to her. “Sorry again.” Her phone lit up with a text and he recognized his sister and Elia. “Are you… Celia?”

She blinked at him. “Yes? And you are?”

He extended his hand. “Arthur Dayne, the person my sister has been trying to set you up with.”

Celia’s lips widened into a smile and she laughed, taking his hand with her own. “Celia Tully, the girl your sister has been trying to set  _ you  _ up with.”

Arthur grinned. “It looked like my sister texted you.”

“Probably to meet up with her after her  _ intermission  _ with Brandon. She can wait.”

“She can?”

“I’m sure she’d be fine with it if we are late together,” she said. “Do you wanna grab coffee?”

“Sure.” He offered her his arm. “My lady.”

She snorted and mocked a curtsy. “Ser.”

She took his arm and they began to chat away, leaving the portraits of Ser Arthur Dayne and Lady Celia Lannister behind them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for sticking with this story even though I had lost a lot of steam with it!  
> I hope you guys enjoyed the final chapter and the story as it unfolded! 
> 
> My next Celiaverse fic will be “A Choice Not Mine.” Which will be a Daelia/Ceime love triangle fic! It will start next week! Yay!


End file.
